Not a prayer

You who raise a prayer
from your shady and safe haven
beyond the blue texture of that sky
there is no god who can listen to you

I plunge my hands in the dust
in vain searching for other hands
but sharp stones and lifeless bodies
hurt my weak flesh

It is useless to cry or curse
the guardian angels have fled
it's just you and me now
abandoned in the midst of the universe

Moths

Like a song unwinds this life
safe and senseless yet luxuriant
through deserts of words
between agitated dreams
and sudden awakenings

At night she lives in clusters of notes
very pure terminal unconsciousness
beautiful wave and melancholy refrain
rejects the wisdom that is vulgar

In the soft riverbed of dreams laid down
to caress goodbyes never realized
wandering moths in rural cemeteries
in search of a lost vague love

Livings

How many fingers do you have brother?
Maybe you don't have any hands
two eyes a nose a mouth
a color a different shape
an anxious beating heart.
You follow me with your ten children
squawking on the lawn for food
I heard you buzzing around
shouting high in the sky
blathering in the deserts.
Life is equal to itself
with the only mission to live
whatever it is wherever it is
as old as the stars
regardless of good and evil.