the world has ended
I hold the final ache that fragment of ash shrouded in perception the wind passes through the world wrinkling it as a docile flag when did I cease to believe that I exist now all this movement wanders...
View Articlestrange
How a book of history and deep time carves to certainty the doom that is inches or eons away we subsist clothed & saluting as speck, blip so this is a cosmic process love and civilization the...
View ArticleSoon the path is fog
While these hands have broken bread, caressed drooling lips of pleasure, while grey wax streams down these cheeks for soon the path is fog, a dotted line of street lamps, lumps of light doses of...
View Articleto sit
But to sit inside to mourn the faint flame of the tongue a domain bursting with curl don’t move these eyes they soon thunder behind two happy lips asleep to sit uprooted of her hairs not beatific by...
View Articleschematization
You now must know what it is to crave a glass of water or to sip a kiss; to be so reckless as to flood the heart because it is a crater of chalk and you’re tired of its empty dusty frame. I don’t...
View Articleoblivion obliged
When Midas asked Silenus what fate is best for a man, Silenus answered: “Pitiful race of a day, children of accidents and sorrow, why do you force me to say what were better left unheard! The best of...
View Articlethrough artery
To peek within, through artery, like spying through a window into a room with two armchairs and a book of chemistry. To capture within the vaulted length, the sinuosity of entrails like a mountain...
View Articleon a white couch
Poetry doesn’t prove a thing. It disproves the authenticity of language, the permanence of meaning and the universality of reason. Suddenly, I thought, on the couch, while reading a history of...
View Articlemy eyes and shiver
There will be no more. I will close my eyes and shiver as a wriggle in timelessness. No tomorrow. From the table we put in our mouths the last lesson of the bread, we close the door and the familiar...
View Articleand the emptiness of
A weak wind being bent as silent structure on the margin of the hours by the beach a walk through the empire of rock after death love sits with legs cold and the storm of the sand every crash is wrath...
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