quando durmo não distingo
dia santo de domingo
o dia é que põe o pingo
gelado no i
do desabrigo
a luz é que faz cair
do céu noturno
o espanto
o peso desperta a dor
à flor do chão
velho amigo
3 Responses to “dia dos mortos”
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sub-til
como toda a poesia deve ser
– ser
de ser
Christiana, perfeitos versos!
Gostei imenso.
o que a sua palavra ESPANTO
me suscitou
:
PONTOS DE VISTA
as coisas
nascem nuas
todas as coisas são
vestidas
quando vistas
ver é vestir
as coisas
cada um
tem a sua forma
de vesti-las