quarta-feira, 25 de janeiro de 2012

Caganeira

Por Fabio Ramos


                                                                            No princípio,
                                                                            era a ideia do
                                                                            precipício a martelar.
                                                                            Bastava um passo
                                                                            à beira do penhasco
                                                                            e ponto final.

                                                                            Meu plano arquitetado
                                                                            escorreu pelo ralo
                                                                            quando matutei:
                                                                            sabe esse povo que adoraria
                                                                            ver o malogro da gente?
                                                                            Meu salto seria a bênção deles
                                                                            [tartufos por todos os lados].

                                                                            Lampejo 

                                                                            de lucidez
                                                                            me fez abrir 

                                                                            as pálpebras.

                                                                            Estômago revirando
                                                                            no meio da madrugada
                                                                            significa uma coisa:
                                                                            é o poema querendo sair
                                                                            às três da manhã.

                                                                            Para chegar ao banheiro,
                                                                            preciso acender a luz.

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