God's no trespassing signs

don't forget to take your vita
mins
they taste of grass mixed with blood
now put your mouth to the gutters
drink

spare yourself
do not expect any miracles
love is a dead sparrow falling from the sky

I don't believe in stories with happy end
ings
I don't believe in stories of any kind

the wind feels great
I'm dreaming about dreaming
pale like I was
on that day of june '74
my parents looked at each other thinking that I was born
just to teach them
the best way of dying on your very own birthday
I heard God saying that he did not want
any legal custody over me
so I was sent back

today I'm putting blocks in between.
when I was asked for the first time
I said to my kids that death is no
thing else but a squized lemon
at the bottom of the garbage bag

I couldn't find a better definition
I never tried

steps in the snow

look at me. I've ripped pages of my own diary
heavy with life
all those possessions
thoughts about death and its many sounds
on behalf of those
countless nights
you know where to go from here
unharmed
wanting to change what cannot be undone
gasping for a breath of fresh air.
your heart a ringleader of a circus
a convivial joke-teller
an absent servant.
perhaps today is your lucky day
in the right corner of your house
very soon the cherry tree will want to talk to us
I will invoke the same allergies to dust
it's middle of April
snow all around
one more line
one line for a good ending
a long, unwanted pause