to live

on the dry fishermans table
they opened me up.
my liver, lungs and guts,
spread like lizards capturing heat.

life covers me like the sand
stuck to my membranes.
when the fisherman is distracted,
I'm eaten by his dog

seabreeze up the nostrils,
the sea is a cemetary.
along the night-time beach
I live in the dogs howl.

dreams live in the dogs bowel...
we hurry past the old house
and leafless trees,
down an unknown path.

born in an inmense forest,
we only know one way out.
there is only one way in,
so we live only in dreams.

we live in the trouts mouth.
we spawn, swim and die.
we live in silence, then noise.
out, within the process.