Write as you will In whatever style you like Too much blood has run under the bridge To go on believing That only one road is right.

                                               In poetry everything is permitted.

                                               With only this condition of course,
                                               You have to improve the blank page.

                                                There is a motionless tree
                                                 there is another that moves forward
                                                                 a river of trees
                                                 pounds at my chest
                                                                 The green swell
                                                 of good fortune

                                                 You are dressed in red
                                                                 you are
                                                 the seal of the burning year
                                                 carnal firebrand
                                                                 star of fruit
                                                 I eat the sun in you

                                                                 The hour rests
                                                 on a chasm of clarities

                                                 The birds are a handful of shadows
                                                 their beaks build the night
                                                 their wings sustain the day

                                                 Rooted at the light's peak
                                                 between stability and vertigo
                                                                 you are
                                                         the diaphanous balance.

Perhaps to love is to learn to walk through this world. To learn to be silent like the oak and the linden of the fable. To learn to see. Your glance scattered seeds. It planted a tree. I talk because you shake its leaves.