dissabte, diumenge, dilluns

Dies de mal posar.

El cos, l'envàs,

tiba fils, 

tiba costures.

Les hores es remouen a dins:

massa plens, 

els calaixos de la memòria.

Fas dissabte de tu. 

Comptabilitzes bugades,

i llençols perduts.

Chris in the morning

"Rain usually makes me feel mellow: curl-up-in-a-corner time, slow down, smell the furniture. Today... it just makes me feel wet. What is about owning things? Why do we feel the need to own what we love, and why do we become such jerks when we do? We've all been there, you know: we want something; we own it, and by owning it we change it. When you finally win that girl of your dreams, the first thing you do is try to change her. That little thing she does with her hair, the way she wears her clothes, the way she chews her gum. Until, eventually, what you like, what you don't like, and what you change, all merges into one. Like a watercolor in the rain."

Northern Exposure, "Dateline: Cicely"

espadat

el temps espesseeix la pell

com un bosc que només sap dir-se a si mateix,

curull de verd.

tot és massa endins.

s'enfonsa el nus d'on vessa aquest voler ser

el gest que incendia la llum

l'esquerda que et significa.

tot és distàncies.

i et comptes en els versos que es perden

en el trajecte de travessar la carn tossuda

pel seu punt més feble

-allà on va a rompre el calfred

i l'os s'endolceix-

per celebrar el verb com cal,

cos enllà.