it’s raining -
	my smell in the room:
	bad omen
	a cold iron	translated by:
	this long silence -	Massimo Bacigalupo
	bitter oranges
	deep mysteriousness	the drop shines
	hidden in wells -	without falling:
	the stone gone yellow	she waits to become ice
	summer grass -	swallows’ well:
	locking in a test tube	the empty sky
	the old insects	over a dark mouth
	invading moon:	sea wind
	the white light	brings sound and fragrance
	hung out to dry	towards the chairs
	barren lands -	the dust dresses
	the breath moves to meet	objects
	subterranean rivers	over time
		desert boulevard
		in the dark - someone
		forgot a straw-hat
		bare walls
		in the silence of dream
		the impending trot