The orchard moves in a circle

around the sleep

the gum tree and the cypress

touch erotically.

Mother again becomes

a wet bag

I walk in Paradise again

and I nestle up, nestle up

with the body

as if on moistened soil.

Tonight I’ll perhaps dream

the end of the world

the explosion of the sun

to the core

I know the meaning of

there is no hope

before I wake up.

Quietness… the dogs…

during the famine

when father cut down the cypress

he forgot the sin

in the plantation of the sky