that tree
had spider webs
on each sheet.
i wish i could
have an alert look
to avoid obstacles
write poems someday
or the letters arrive
that I leave in the air
and that they do not reach you
because the pigeons fear him
or the postman steals them
for his conquests.
I wish I had written
Silvio's song
and something happens
delete me suddenly
I hope my blood doesn't spill
in the flight of the eagle
and the cornice is not
just a dream
where the threads trace
ways not to lose it.
that tree
had spider webs
on each sheet
each sheet
I had ants
each ant
had stories
to tell