Ripley's cat
author
I give the white door, never
not transposed. But my home
is much greater than that
its sonic horizon includes
from the lights at Gran Via
even poor
river with its trees and birds such
arrows suddenly crossing the landscape.
not understand the house because I found
Mystery. For me outside
calculating the trajectory of the blackbird
after the window, or at midnight
reached the moth.
Because your eyes need light
call me Arcanum.
As if one of their gods, the divine
Hunter Bug-
feed me. I give
dream. And the dream is also the home
their measures include my jaws, muscles
accurate and vibrissae
where they reverberate through the asphalt and parks.
Because I have my dream in my hands I suppose
Sensuality.
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