Edival Lourenço, em “Poesia Reunida – 1983-2013”. 1ª ed., São Paulo: Editora Ex-Machina, 2014, p. 280.
We are children of rude poetry
of those who loved in sweat and without rhetoric
in the heroic multiplier lead
of the beings of the most holy excrescence
(in the abstract the supreme being portrayed …)
nothing more than the explosion of the tiny instant
or in the infinite open parenthesis
that goes from nothing to everything, especially
if we are (ch) birds) of innocence and fire,
we are all objects of pleasure
in (inter) those of mother nature;
doors of the real, birds of love,
with our green tireless wings
we will cross the blue in chronic (sin) flight.