I'm here to invent a new sin, the sin of loving you
May the gods be with me
The faint whispers behind the trees
Are they of horror or of joy?
Are they the shadows in your head?
In your head
Love is like an X-ray of a black hole
Formidable, penetrating
I see babies in gigantic cones
They are moving like pawns
Are they the shadows in your head?
In your head
They circulate the gardens
They hang from the wires
They are mathematical, metaphysical
They are shaped like cylinders
Gyrating at their own axis
They produce terrors, soon
Sons and daughters