Each time

he closes his eyes

and, between two obscure lanterns,

remains imaginary, distant:

he enters the riding party of smoke

like a horse of dried steam,

and he extends himself

with the resignation of a shipwreck

over the maw of a dream without end.

And there,

in the liturgy of the surround

where his obscurity culminates,

he inherits the sense of fatigue

in the abyss of the eye:

he remains soundless

and busy

among the quietude of metals

and the pallid memory

of the decayed marble.

He has gone far away,

deserted.

And in his journey

by the corners

of the restless garden plot,

he revolves

and covers himself with soft rain;

he says goodbye to whatever he created,

and without realizing

that he has left,

he enters the pastureland of the dead

on a journey without end.

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Silence. Montreal: The Muses Co., 1992

ISBN 0-919754-41-4 & ISBN 0-919754-40-6