trees blaze in flame of impossible colors

and she dances in the alleys of redolent lilacs

fetch me a little love, she said

from where? I asked

from thin air, she said

so, I catch a butterfly;

I count the colors; it has every color

an wing can carry

II.

pencils of drunken moon

vertical and fenestrated through and through

a grunting noise

a raindrop seeps through the window pane

blighted moonlight

drink was the moon

alone

she walked into the whispering shadows

of unkempt mangrove

III.

jasmines and hibiscuses are in full bloom

bougainvillea screams its intense colors

dream weaves its slender threads

dream dives deeper into other dreams

horizon blurred; time torn

and

space collapsed

IV.

wisdom has no loves, says the celibate priest

then he weeps and says to the priestess:

o' priestess, tear my robe and listen to my heart's affliction.

my head is wise, but my heart is not;

thus said, he placed his heart on a lovely posy,

and offered the priestess

his last homily

V.

eggs, avocado, few slices of full-grain bread

and a cup of evening tea;

a sitar

a harmonium

and a book laying on red carpet;

gently she picked up the book;

her voice wet and broken,

she read,

'run softy, softly, horses of midnight'