The linen

I'm waiting for a locksmith to fix

my washing machine

meanwhile the heap of dirty linen

has risen up to the sky covering the moon -

disquised lantern

the bed sheets are floating in the air

someone might take them as kites and start

pulling some imaginary strings

that locksmith isn't coming anymore

the washing machine is annoying

the dustmen are passing by

pointing the cheek

the receipt the pockets to me

the linen turning yellow as time

is passing

tearing bends becoming floating lints

a univers of coloured lints

a sun of red cloth a moon

of yellow stuff clouds of

grey lints

ladies and gentlemen

open your hands and you'll have

a bit of my universe

in your palm