Exhbition Number:?

    I’ve layed my eager eyes upon her limbs. That kind of sad beauty, natural grace.

Reading a book under the rain and thunders of gods, pagan and dark.

 Lovers as we are just acolytes.

  When the dusk was taking this land, lovely twilight, purple as her eyes, gloomy and big, seductive.

NympHic. Could turn my quiet day in a balmy day.

 Dark blUe in the sky, her brown scent in and around my nose.

 Most loves are born under the sun, some are born when the day and night Meets at the horizon, I’d tryied to hide my anklers, my bubble of hot poison, the fire that ablaze my heart and my loins.

But I could not.

  The time of my heart Beats does not follow any measure though, so how I could know that she was the one in the middle of the beats.

Sin, soul, any difference that you can spot with your greedy eyes?

Ennio Morricone is playing somewhere, and the dark blue is still here, sweEt piano chords and violins, smooth as virgin kisses and they have the flavours of her.

FlavouRs of fruit vert.

 I had felt the heaT of the dirty under my bare feet and she sure felt it too, a nymph, with those clothes that remember wings. A bird, a very bird.

Answer me, how a man could fell in love so madly for stardust?

That’s what we all are, ain’t that the bitter truth?

We can find our brothers and sisters, our lovers and sinners in dust, stardust that surrounds us and she, was made of the most beautiful dead stars.

She layed her eyes upon me, black clothes and anklers.

Maybe Little Bird knew me from other time, or our souls are the same up there, oh Lord, I could eat those scarlet lips, scarlet as licked strawberry candy. Starlet eyes and moving legs, rich brown hair oh, so different of mine, that black ripple of darkness and bones, my horns could not touch her flesh.

 And she took a sit by my side and said:

–There’s stardust on my eyes, everywhere, look Horned Man.

  

  And I had looked, azure sky or dark blue eyes, I do not know, stardust know so little these days.

Oh, that nature I could not said precisely what was, but I am sure it was not all human, maybe demoniac, but definitely not human, the beat of my heart and the pump sound of my veins blended with her voice. Maybe she was a Little Ghost, protected by our wildlife. Could we run thoghout the wilderness and deserts, or maybe, if you like, travel to USA roads, motel to motel, brothel to brothel, and lose our souls into the HAZE of a field. Come now, just 25 steps to my old car and we can set our demons free. We have time, but first we have to have the conscience that one day, well be ghosts of dead leaves of what we are now, our long ago is now when our bodies were close to become Stardust.

If we die of hate or remorse, at least something we did Little Bird.

 She kissed me, wrapped her legs around me and I melted in the sun.

Feather lips and just came to my mind those lines, of the European poet, the handsome one, know who is it?

 He said that the last long lap is the hardest, and the rest is rust... and Stardust. And now I complete, ‘cause I understand him, rust and Stardust in symphony, up there in the Dark Blue.