20 Dec 98 | New clothes shaped like fog

When it drops its seeds [like clumsy rain drops] onto a womb, spraying like meteorites,

And hands covered with white cotton, protecting your sunrays from freezing.

Wait here, for it to photograph you… standing out there….

Losing air in front of everyone.

When it breaks these silent, empty strings of this web shaped green insect,

Like angry ants, gathering around its tiny, white egg, making silly, dumb gestures.

Its yellowing ray, enters this room of leaves, opening out…

       To eclipse the hidden black ghost…

                 Where freezing cold wind is making it to burn out empty handed.