Aphonia




Absence, indisputable like a Gaussian curve 
Around the fortuitous aorta of my breath
 Something was lost
I do not know where

Which disappearance removed in my center
An old gold sensitive to the light of days
Sensitive to the time one rubs one's palms with
To better hang one's dreams to objects taking off
Taking myself off I knew how

I think I knew, even when the ground is heavy, throwing out my shout
I lost sight of my wings
Burned perhaps
A destiny emerges
Syrupy, slightly talkative
It acts for me

I can only bow, yielding to its tutelage
Something was lost
At the bottom of what I thought was mine
The elegance of joy softening the error
The joy of elegance
I myself became this unknown gap with no echoes on its sides
Seeking to get dizzy with a few songs











July 2015