Elephants cross the morning
ground with his words
zoo light in empty steps
traces of false pagoda
and urban baptism given a proper name
Now humps monsters only inflated by anger
sweeping from east to west
clothing books furniture and wall pictures
In your eyes, something unexpected:
violet a river and studded with tears of jacaranda
where the old prophecy say again:
"What humiliation quietly weaves
end a day with your village"
the glow of the morning any
your speaking of civility shrink
to take the proper measure of a single word:
E LeFante
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