Do not edit
my life,
my body,
my spirit.

Let me be
wherever the rain falls
asleep in the fresh anonymous mornings,
far away from any “I”
that might adulterate
my eye.

Do not write poems about me;
let me be
what I know and can be
every time I breath your presence.

Do not try to reproduce me in
any of the arts of the earth
if,
before anything,
you cannot love me.