Atlantis

I curse reality
for there is no royal city
any more
ruined in the jungle
of our dreams.
Now the guerillas
and the Yankee bloodsuckers
control the territory
of jaguars and orchids.

Once in the jungle
of the Indians
dreams were real
which is why the princes of magic
built palaces there
safeguarded by flooded forests
and dragonflies that breathed fires
of passion
carrying lamps of phosphorescence
through the warm darkness
to hang upon the battlements
of enchantment.

How shall we survive
in the desert of forgetfulness
and clocks
amongst the rotting stumps
which were the columns
of bygone bliss?

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