How many rivers must a thought
Cross to go to the open sea?

Coming out of a contrary door I
Passed you going in.

Now alone in this house of lost doors
And blowing shutters

I shape a storm on your lips
And reconcile your gesture of sand dunes

With metaphors of absence
In a timepiece town of high history

With figures interfaced in crowds
Seeking ports that open on wide days

I live mythologies
In a reverie of drifting

To a black rose on the breast
Of night meditated . But tell me :

How many rivers must a thought
Cross to go to the open sea ?