Desolate heart,
Sharp cactus needles protect you
On the one hand,
On the other they pierce you
And a blue world weeps through
To infuse you with melancholic
Ablutions and rituals
In savannah lemongrass.

Avoid generalisations,
Exaggerations and
Residual absolutes,
Plaster the holes in the sky
Perforated by two statues’ crowns
Where an impossibly white sky
Drips like a dose of milk
And gives birth to the word

For all things in
This realm remain
Within a constant knot,
Of what is possible
Tied to its same self
By what it is not.