Between the difficult and the impossible extends <br />the domain, always shifting. There, <br />always in transit, dwells man, <br />with his gaze fixed on fields <br />plagued with locusts, in a flesh <br />half dreamed half thought, without a mark. <br />Against the wall, a flower. <br />A flower born and grown in sand <br />Sand that accumulated, once, <br />a long time ago, like accumulates darkness. <br />Under a sun, remote and fixed, <br />in a night made of stretched sails <br />and threesome loves, before houses and books burn. <br />Who knows the reason for the sudden change <br />of the colour of the stones, of the music of the air, <br />of the murmur of desire in its urgent hygiene <br />Who lavishes himself, now, after everything, <br />mouth against shoulder and belly against mouth: <br />to struggle still for the course, the alphabet, the form?<br /><br />Carlos Barbarito<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/between-the-difficult-and-the-impossible-extends/
