At
Three A.M.
I
come alive at three A.M. when the subconscious plays
the fiddle
with tomorrow's dawn lost between my hand.
And what if my right brain stopped drawing all together?
Will
the sleeping giant awake to tell my tale
or will he retreat into the fear of a working stiff?
I
have tried to stay unemployed since 1984
to dream freely in the waking of each day.
I
am the words beyond my reach
in the vocabulary of a shadow's dance.
Esta
sombra de palabras es mi trabajo
y
Es lo unico que quiero como calendario.
