Walk on the years.
Walk, walk and exercise,
Walk and send the words from tongue to tongue.
Come let us open the dictionary and greet the words,
Open the books and read on the paper what the poets wrote.
Come let us walk barefoot on the silence, so we don’t wound the words.
To whom is this shirt with a bloody collar
To whom is this coat on the clothes hanger
Dripping with blood
And this mark from a step at the door,
And the strange smell in the flower pots,
And that hanging scream from the house of the sky,
To whom is that scream?
I will walk with you and walk with me
To listen to my steps on the pavement of the sea
A step in the shadow and a step in the wounded light;
The shattered light, the torn light on an edge
And those who crossed yesterday as wandering ghosts in a burned light.