O LIVRO DO ANSEIO

I can’t make the hills

The system is shot

I’m living on pills

For which I thank G-d

I followed the course

From chaos to artDesire the horse

Depression the cart I sailed like a swan

I sank like a rock

But time is long gone

Past my laughing stock

My page was too white

My ink was too thin

The day wouldn’t write

What the night penciled in

My animal howls

My angel’s upset

But I’m not allowed

A trace of regret

For someone will use

What I couldn’t be

My heart will be hers

Impersonally

She’ll step on the path

She’ll see what I mean

My will cut in half

And freedom between

For less than a second

Our lives will collide

The endless suspended

The door open wide

Then she will be born

To someone like you

What no one has done

She’ll continue to do

I know she is coming

I know she will look

And that is the longing

And this is the book

A BEATITUDE DO MEU COHEN, DE QUEM ANDO DISTANTE, POR PURA FALTA DE BOM SENSO. SE MEU PER'IODO SE ALARGAR AQUI, PEC(CEDILHA)O AA DOUTORA QUE MO ENVIE PELA MALA, O LIVRO DE ONDE VEIO ESSE PREFACIO. A MINHA PENICILINA.