Lawn mowers invade indifferent rainy skies,
Hundreds of newly discovered graves of
Ancient cannibals, zoophiles and philosophers.
Walls shout at people that read long poems in dreams.
That wear the stars they can’t see, love the masks they can’t wear.
But dreams always end, and you can even count the words:
Aspirin, comedy, compassion, alcohol, internet, rain, cheese, etc.


Our siblings with half-liquid axes
and half-solid dragonflies over them
love to show us huge clay masks.
There is always air behind the masks.
If we are lucky it will dissolve our eyes some day.