at this hour
i do not dream of any change
at this moment
i let things stay as they are
let the white flower wilt
on the base
let the mosquito live
let it
suck the blood from my cheek
do not slap me
previous to this hour
if you only know
i have already thought of
another word
for departure
let this word sprout
let us try to see the color of its barks
the comfort of its
roots.
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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