THE NAME OF YOUR DREAM

 

The name of your dream
is now wearing woolen aprons.
The flour of the spring from the rock
flows into the water of the marsh
it sucks your foot back
bright
a cloud among clouds.

 

 

 

HERE IT COMES

 

At east of your meridian
a flash of pink ripples
has brought the stars to light.
The sand that strikes the desert
uncovers a pale messiah,
that comes into your eyes.
One day even sprigs
their wind will blow.
That day your tears
the sea will wash away.