Ship of the Forest
I know that
if I had
an attire,
a suit,
green colour, open
with dark red flowers
if in the place
of the invisible
Aeolian harp I use
as my head
I had a square bar
of green soap
so that it could touch
softly
one of its edges
between my two shoulders
if it is possible
to replace
the holy shrouds
of my voice
with the love
the metaphysical musical Kore
has for
the black umbrellas
perhaps then
only then
I could name
that the fleeting
visions of joy
I had once seen,
when I was a child,
looking
reverently
inside the round
eyes
of birds

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