martes, 25 de octubre de 2011

TPG October 1998


Sometimes, in dark nights,
Sadman dreams.
With a wooden house
Over a grass field
With open flowers
Like red
Lips.

Reads poetry and rests
                        in a basket chair.

But Sadman cannot remember
His dreams.

Upon awaking, his dark television
Projects grey lights.
With distorted pictures
Of black buildings
With closed windows
Like armored
Steel.

Drinks whisky and looks
                        at his ashen sofa.

Sometimes, upon awaking
Sadman regrets without knowing,
Lost without finding,
Weeping dry eyes.

Sometimes, a child looks
                        at Sadman
Without knowing,
Lost,
In his weeping.

The green fields blossom
Without knowing,
Lost,
Sometimes.

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