"There are the waves and there is the wind...
- Kuan Yin...

Brazilian Day in Toronto
When you get the subway...

As I write this last letter, the sun dies in my...
my vowels and consonants carry my shame and cross...

He rises.
She measures...

The criterion is subjective ,
and the mood is subjunctive...

She embraced her nakedness,
feeling some wrinkles summoning the sun...

I look at him,
thinking of my horizontal life...

Gently, i feel free,
watching the sunshine melting and dividing...

When I raised my hands,
she came tenderly, bathing me...

at last
i can feel again...

What is this thing in life
that keeps me dazzled and dazed...

I cried my last word,
breaking all the connections...