top of page

FOREST

I was in love with language which conceals the world
I was in love with words, the vanity of which reveals myself
You were running your glance along the yellow gesture
of a Kandinsky painting on June 22, carefully
You were tracing the forced angles of a Gris
with your body tucked in the didactic
I was translating words into other words,
searching for your architecture
It was gone

<

bottom of page