Circles
we all ride in circles,
pieces of time
gathered by the gravity of our mind
moistened by the grass.

Yesterday is a wandering bird,
tomorrow passes into oblivion
slowly like a cricket into my ear.

I forgot to tell you:
flag the moments not to forget,
flag every stone, every fountain.
They will water the grass
between your toes,

the raw grass between the circles.

knocks at my thought
from the thought of the ocean
a paddle
lost by a boat in a memory wave
like a submerged rock surrounded by walls
where from a whimper departs

silences go out to greet him in the evening
witnesses being only the mornings
lost through ports
no one hears his grief
tuck to his chest like a poniard

and then

in a sign of resignation