Opaqueness of thought
casting dark shadows
over words.
12 noon-
saturated with vacuum,
these black monuments
expand their territory
and trespass
into the realm of poetry.
Voids whip across the bare
back of the shadow, and the wounds
are concealed.
Silence basks in the shade.
Robe the naked shadow
with a body.
Fill this empty body
with a soul
and this verse with a fragment
of yourself.
Delinquent winds
bullying soils,
smoking
factories like cigarettes
puff a gust
of nostalgia.
I do not budge.
Absence strikes
hard;
another shadow...
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