ouço um poeta trabalhando
                                                                                             versos
                                                                                        esparsos
                                                                                no quarto escasso
                                                        dentro do quarto amargo
                                                                                      ferido
                                                                                      do mundo morto
                                                                                      de vontade
                                                                                      de acabar com quartos

                                                        outros estão lendo
                                                                                    absurdamente
                                                                                                            lendo