entropia

Por Ana Paula Perissé

                                                         têm coisas que não hei de saber
                                                         escrever
                                                         há muito vontade
                                                         em mim
                                                         [todavia]
                                                         que dói e lateja
                                                         implosão


                                                         tem quietude de nada saber
                                                         (resquícios de sentidos
                                                         fadind away)
                                                         que o oceano
                                                         não tem mais vagas
                                                         para nós.


                                                         faltam ondas
                                                         quiçá espumas.
                                                         falésias secas,
                                                         graníticas róseas
                                                         à solitude de ciclo.


                                                         têm coisas sobre as quais
                                                         não sei escrever.


                                                         ( factualidade entre mundos
                                                         em débil caos )