Workers On A Busin the original Spanish
To age another year in the summer
But not even two sensible lovers
slow down the hostile
weft of the eucaliptis.
Like in a watercolor in front of a group
of critics in training,
west opens a wound
between the canoeists.
It occurs to me that we are snails
on a sprig, two
pieces pressed together
in the fist of sea shells
on a yellow stem
violating some law of matter.
First posted on September 23, 2011 6:40 AM