PAPIER MÂCHÉ CURTAINS 

PAPIER MÂCHÉ CURTAINS 

Opaque in horizon

Equally dressed of same colours

In confused party

Fall worn

Carton mâché curtains

By a false uproar

On our guilty appearances

On the glass windows of the night

Wind the residues of

Confused and scratched memories

Like the arrows of blood in wheat.

Far, later

The lights will put out

In the cities stage

Theatre of mankind.

MIMESIS

In the mouth of flock

Mud and vinegar …. I spat

But I haven’t ever died.

Of a widowed divinity

I feel

Of far flame

The opened rebellion

Intact shell

I detest,

but by mimetic and social clothes

I dress

My existential vertigo.

Of my blood

It is just remained

Inner cries

Of nausea

And in human comedy

Loath or militant

I feign!

Inside,

I haven’t stained

Of the pain

The purity.