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In an encounter,
after years not counted,
in a dream,
not looking any older,
from a desk behind hers,
a blond-haired boy
with the eyes of a girl,
is uncovering snakes’ dwellings
to her in entirely
human places,
in cracks of house walls, doorposts,
window frames, inconspicuous,
yet not at all neglected
hiding places of a dwelling.
He was wearing them like trinkets around his ankles and let the short bodies
with their ink-blotted triangular heads
move ahead of him
through cuts in the gate,
as his predecessors.
Whether due to reminders of childhood
or due to his only captivating skill,
each corner is now looking like
a possible curves of their bodies,
intoxicated by the winter slumber
curled up in a noose of threat.
Who sends one on a snake’s trail
has made of the eyes a debtor
for all the overly caution and
the unrest of noon in the absence of
shadows.
(from “The Appendix to the Ancient Boy”)

The land of Hesperides had broken into
islands,
in a floating archipelago,
duties of Hesperides
as both the watchers and the watched,
was a fruit shaped in the air,
suitable for one curling around it
suitable to the shape of enveloping and the
watched,
seeks a shaping of the watcher observer,
by practicing a skill in the air,
lowering the limits of the invisible,
from the ranks of ordinary women with
secret talents
unrejuvenated by their own offspring,
watching death and breeding,
cast in shape and locked
to shape a fruit in the air and be the guard of its shadows in the wind,

to lower the limits of the invisible by the brink of reality and materialization,

materialization at the junctures of numerous realities,
the hostages of guarding,
the watcher that become watched,
growing from one dream into the next,
in the next, the invisible boy of the
Hesperides,
the concealed fruit,
is already covering himself.
(from “The Appendix to the Ancient Boy”)