Return (no. 131)
The labyrinth twists and groans
in the elliptical transgression
of the heart,
like a train swallowed whole
in a tunnel where the wind
is softly shown,
digression, moved alone
and side to side,
grown,
in the elliptical garden of the
heart
shone and shone,
brightly against the leaves.
A moratorium on light,
tall centuries,
in vertical transfusion
(nothingness,)
escapes essences
spiritual, unknown,
the apothecary’s ointments
in grass bloom,
glass
shaped and blown.
And wrapped around
these heart-trees
underground
upon which frowned
the many smiling face
where lost,
the silent letters
of the heart
endlessly in all
directions
are aroused,
untied…
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