and I gladly climbed to his house, I willingly gave up the coat in the entrance, I gladly followed him as he walks with his safe step and while he goes touches the things that are his, (the drawer, a quick look at the cards, collects a newspaper sitting in the chair, touches the table) and docile I followed him that...
you know my women, as it is long the night when you face it after months of winter frosts. You know how long it is and how much it is worth every moment you spend with him, in two, in the dark, the world out and nothing else important. and so it was: after so many words that had emptied my head, after so many questions and...
Poetry for a man who escapes Because I don't see that thin hand slowly opens up cauta approaches my face and slowly gets concave to take its forms; instead all my life taking light poses and welcomes my cheek, and reopens spaceless of teche my are already bright skies. Have courage.
My visions How the fury of the wind arrives and sweeps. Collect from the road the stale dust, fattened by the heavy smog, lifts it in napkins, transports it along with the paper, knocks it on the walls of the houses, collects the dead leaves, plastic bags, and drags them far, playing with the umbrellas of four...