Carmine lipstick roses,

are born on the

lover's skin.

 

 

Let's suppose God

dreamt about a man

      (or a monster-

and that was me.

 

 

 

Dead people of

a lenguage go on

speaking plainly.

Masats & the art of,

 

 

 

 

I send postcards

of every reincarnation

to my mother.

 

 

A red spinning top,

love, I am, dancing

on your travel.

© 2015 Josep Masats