From Dreams and Projects

If You Ask the Wings


     The hypostatic vapors cloud the lenses of my erratic writing
pad's eyeglasses.  I've got to keep on taking them off and wiping
away the steam.  The stone that I found in the debris of the Maggia
river looks like a chubby cloud that has closed its eyes forever.
     The eyes speak on the waves like kernels.  They want to leave
the trees before the wings depict leaves.  If you ask the wings why
they want to depict leaves, you will not receive any answer.  They
show off and laugh up their mummified sleeve which they acquired for
such purposes in the land of the pharaohs, until the leaves on the
tree-heads stand on end.
     In the sky there is a small yellow navel around which a larger
yellow navel coils, around which a larger one coils, and around which
a larger one...
     In the niches and domes of the nocturnal sky, enormously magnified
projections appear: snakes with human heads, turning and twisting in a
furious round.  The frenzied desire to blow up the invisible and the
infinite horribly disfigures the human heads of the snakes. 

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