You Can Crush The Flowers, But You

It Is Not So Much Light That Falls Over The World Extended By Your Body Its Suffocating Snow, As Brightness, Pouring Itself Out Of You, As If You Were Burning Inside. Under Your Skin The Moon Is Alive.

Hate Is Like A Swordfish, Working Through Water Invisibly And Then You See It Coming With Blood Along Its Blade, But Transparency Disarms It.

I Move In The University Of The Waves.

And Our Problems Will Crumble Apart, The Soul / Blow Through Like A Wind, And Here Where We Live Will All Be Clean Again, With Fresh Bread On The Table.

I'm Not Me But Living Matter Fermenting And Forming Its Own Shapes In The Fruitfulness Of Every Day.