domingo, 7 de agosto de 2011

Raining dust

Underneath the powder

of a kissing wind,
the sky crumbles
over the noisy necks
of the angry rivers.
A dirty yellow smile,
willing to fill the sound
with a nasty dream,
seems to be a little sparrow
cutting the air.

Fishes are opened
and the thirst comes dressed
pretending rain.

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