Summer Sun

I do not care for the Summer sun,

nor do I care for its lightning arms

surrounding my house,

the poems I've written,                                                                                                              

my blood spread all over the garden,

my moon in flames.

I do not are for the Summer sun,

it changes everything,

turns everything into skeletons,

fumes and vapors of fantasies

somebody brought to town

once upon a time,

when Summers were more gentle

and everybody cared for the stories

granddads told up in the river,

up in the night sky.

I do not care for the Summer sun.

Some clouds will do for the day,

for the breakdown that comes,

for the spirits alive looking for flesh,

for the lovers dying in the meantime

they wait.

I care for more troublesome lights,

indeed I brought you some parachutes

so that you can watch what's

underneath my pillow.

I do not care for the Summer sun.

Some others do, they are fooled,

their own sweat entangles on their throats.

And I do not care for the songs they sing,

trying to fool every beat beat beat

of everyone's hearts already fooled

so they can get confused

on their own foolishness.

Fools! Fools! Fools!

Do they know what time is it?

It's Winter time.

And winds will come

for your love.//