From Poems with No First Names

the blocks of dawn crumble
accompanied by the famished cooing
of the turtledove in the mystery
summer shows me of its six red breasts
only the two on top
an organ mane takes its place on my head
my back is covered with whitened words
I take off my chubby skates
the vegetable people applaud me
an oral star grows in my mouth
it tastes like crannied tears
like chance roses of the asphalt
it purrs like the litter of stones
the roundness of the air rocks on its stalk
clouds grow in my hands
I caress my clouds
and fall asleep
I sleep snug as in an egg
I sleep and I wait for leaves to grow on me

the chubby roundness of the mystery rocks on my head
stone clouds cover the words of the asphalt
I crumble on the blocks of dawn
the dawn coos
the organ of the air accompanies the red tears
on the stalk of the stars
on the stalk of summer
I caress the whitened back of the people
I take away my head from the top
which purrs like a famished stone
the turtledove shows me its six vegetable breasts
the mane of snugness grows

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