Morning catalogue

[Pinakothek der Moderne, Munich]

Morning fog,
the always feared feature

A wasted ideia,
a fleeting sun ray
a foreign cry,
stuck in the throat

The day, persistent and naive
invites back:
8, 9, 10 o’clock.
The watch tic tacs
to the minutes melting
on the pavement outside.

– The world –
in my gasping chest
on the spots of my hand
In the ancestral fatigue


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