THE OLD FISHERMAN’S NET
stars do not touch
like eyes which do not either
my path is full of sorrow
like an everlasting body
cries without beginning
sometimes I cannot appreciate it immediately
but an amphibian branch, all by itself,
once it goes too far,
floats away, breaking free from the greenheart
her smile makes fine lace
when it starts to dance it goes before the face, trembling
do not go into a stranger’s eyes
because there is no way back for you
terra incognita is
your own reflection in the mirror
silver-plated water quickly forgets
after every cut the film is put together
her body nurses her flesh back to health
in the evening fishermen lean forward dropping
their nets into the white night catching my face
laid down into the soft silence that flows
yes the entire river had already run through my dead self
but I cannot know for sure if I have given your hands a drink