I dreamed of flying over his breaths
But I never saw the outlines of chimneys
Because many of my flights were just failed flights
Like the Wright brothers' first attempts
Some say he lives in myths and carries dreams to the crowds
That he taught us to watch the shapes, to keep time with the leaves
That he has huge skill in catching them
That he taught the moves to the paulownia fronds
Beware of dives and maneuvers along the route of the fleets of words
They come from the depths without ever saying where
They say he speaks through the comings and goings in the lakes of dust waves
Or in the beat of shutters exposed to the west
I trust those who can read the pollen lifted in the vortices
Yeah, without missing a trail
For me it's not an event, it's a concept
Or at least an element in concert
That sends the ships of meaning onto the rocks of his harmony
One day I saw him, on the coastline sprinkled with vines
A small house of stone and sheet metal, among lavender and olives
Down there submerged where the sun devours the ridges
I didn't feel cold anymore, I just had clearer, cleaner eyes
He moves the boats then walks into a bar that won't open today
The owner remembers his own father
How many times he'd read 'closed for mourning'
But he never imagined the day he'd write it
I suspect there's a life beyond death, I've got clues
But the proof, the addresses are missing
Because he eats everything, cannibalism
Vandalism like Wanna Marchi, Wanna-lism
He carries off the leaves, the bow and the rest of the staff
Blasting bridges and innocents, like the mafia
We all fly, willing or not
And we p*ss on our own feet unintentionally
Viral pollen carried in spirals
And Christ stops at Eboli 'cause he fears Ebola
And she fears leaving and stamps the salt on my tongue
She tries to cry, but I fear it's the wind, or she's faking
The beach ends up in my sangria granita
And it buries my body, like the police
But I feel at the center of the world as if the stars
Were other eyes on my skin
Here where every opposite coexists
He whistles among the pillars and your melodies
I stand on the edge of the crater
My hair looks like flags
Loose in the sun or proudly hung on a pole
Here they stand straight like an Amstaff's tail
Mellifluous like in a tub of molasses
My muse is fat, black and dressed in a kaftan
The animal climbs to her on its paws
Drooling 'cause the doing is hypnotizing
This puddle looks like a huge sea
When the breeze blows it comes from the Levant
And how many stars kill themselves for a thank-you?
Plenty, they pile together like in a cluster
So I ride Pegasus across the galaxies
Now that the jaws have taken off all the clamps
Since amazement has no end
A field of thistles and us stretched on the sleepers
On the hardships of my thirty-plus candles
You blow and the fire seems to reach the peaks