Putting Things Inside Uterus

The poet writes to his friend Dreaming Soul Desperate Times

Accésit Platform June 29, 2010

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Estel

slumbers of the dream deferred
light soaking out. Mariposa
carnal magic on my skin that sits inside the burning
my side. Estel

waiting for his kiss given;
forward my mouth oh! which in itself is something
honey moon
that his most beautiful sea from the sky and more love.

and the world will want your green eyes, skin
your dream, your dream of birds. Female Voice
reddish love!

your voice the world will either lose
the bottom of nowhere, with his keys,
me at last to the end, my hours.

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Before I die I want to see the rictus

my mouth and then close your eyes and shade my eyes mad as a kid I

expression

away from my face looks like you

hand with which I write has declined

made orphans

has returned to the old monkey do not stop

spiders leave my ankles

how lonely my lips kissed the lips of a daughter of Cid makes a second

brothel why I never never closes and

the dark night with no destination frayluiseliana advances

the runaway horse of tremendous waves that my heart lives in the OR to the

sorry my voice is dying in the guest room

how

and no term for unexplained burn without dating the date on which I am

and so far my old age of 81 years who do not respond and only

hear me mourn eternity Daphne's pain and despair

tear my eyes I want you to see really how I am in my voice without a grave

and come from far away from the wreck was confirmed that the ship of my existence and my

perversity exclamation point me out a baby tooth

and drown in the sky theological Narciso those lakes

the past and I sleep oh! I have been asleep ink the word death in 1374

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me I've tried all the poisons to make sure the taste away of my soul does not end in the letter Z. What other signs existence. But you, my life and immortal, Women ocean of passions, you're no longer you, not yourself, but not yourself. I sleep well, you ever so much, I think so much, now my time without your death has risen, has even parirte again, and how, what with endless beats you rewrote my world, and you the world itself, and in turn the universe, leaning toward the primitive desires that underlie eyelids moss, bent in the fire claimed he was born of a thought, footprints in the snow, pearls to a fund, rain behind the eyes, for all of the passing of a cloud which is, the circular female name of what is eternal.

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excited

your mouth my mouth with green olives breeze Athens Lovely
you bewitched me the air I breathe and then I know that after a couple islands
your nakedness and mine in these beds of roses in air and wind surfing in the afternoons
your hair dreams can not longer be charming evening of fireflies
and feathers down your being fired into my flesh networks
gold and if already in the heart of death given the strokes of my years
fever substitutes and if I read the fingertips the distant secrets of your skin takes

for you were born to my dearest ... stone was to confess to my way
horizons with glasses solitudes with catapults the wind with the rain shells
shoes because you're Dearest things because you're not
queens in ceremonies nomads who leave traces
because of naming you think everything is termed as
you but I know I disappear when I sink in your water rose
mad but do not bite more shade Dearest do not sleep
bees always returned to my mouth
already crossed the threshold of poets and never returned there
truth is that my word hits with lightning strikes with gales hit
with volcanoes in the uterus
universe already thrown down the spiral hook for the funeral of my silence closed eighth
but celebrate it oh yeah!
sing high the last oxygen in the seas of stylites prayers
then just give us a kiss n º 912,000 billion humanity BC
and you're well dearest to be the light always the one being impossible wish to discover the dark

when Superb walking barefoot do not forget to carry a tray in her hands
clouds not to miss the big dance in the world you've paged the bedrooms of your love

and although no longer love your lover gifts are not carnal body not only
and although
I no longer dream of glory in your flesh of the fruit not only not in our waking
are two wings to fly beyond the infinite

and you do to stop time when you go to bed in the lounge of the dummies at the dawn
Today is yesterday morning my Fabulous
you root sap of a land that elevates you to the homeless sleep on your heels up
fruit vines that perfumes the breeze nights
always celebrated in your thighs a river that touches everything that includes fruity cherry earrings
full moon asleep in the water of your sex in your belly rises
a shower of bells capable of brightening flakes and whispers of some sun

and only you do to stop time when pigeons descend from the cloud to drink your tears
stars yesterday today tomorrow will be an illusory
my skin are all butterflies that flutter when you get naked in a cell shaded boxes
closed inhabit your being planted in the magic constellation however
and marshes that beat in the skin of his drum world of rainbows and starfish and fish and only


you do to stop the time when to kiss a eclipse prayer
eternity yesterday morning was a
Dreaming

today my two golden snails sleep on your breasts the dream crazy sense of my labors

fall in love with the rain in December when no destination summers in the crucibles of your back

the wheat fields that adorn your neck are bitten by the same wind that

dora

I know very well that your lips have infinite sorrow prevailing desire pupa

the lights

mimbrea called blood in your mouth every day reveals dark silence

my eyes were your rocks at the bottom of a lake that pregnant light awoke in his song on your forehead

nests the roundness of the sediment wanted melts wonderful words

a sea of \u200b\u200bcoral evening curl your hair combed by a dune wave

and embark your ideas in those clouds that can no longer accept the view centuries-old statues and

Name me anytime when you might wake up anything with your mouth surrounded by mist

and from all finite extensions of this world is the magnificent realm of your being alive.

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Offering

listen

chords. Ascend all, all. The must learn who still has not bleeding or have kissed the stone warmer. Incéndiense

fields. Exhaustingly. Because nails are a lot of wind and my soul is ready with a hundred purple irises.

and also the sea withdrew and returned with a guilty secret.

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Alma

There is a snake grows roses to you,
and a milky river of stars that overflows
becoming the song that takes my years of fire and flooding
funds from my word.

There is a sea of \u200b\u200bsummer lost your hips
and a night sky at the secrets of your eyes, your mouth
and joys that I know about wine

of Greece and Rome, you're with me, and without measure .

There goldfinches that huddle for your hair, sunflowers

is cradled between your breasts

and my hands go a round day.

There

afternoon that rain always through your back, raise butterflies

hood

field and the moon to sleep in your rose water.

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Descent is discovered

up with me tonight No one but many fires coming alive in the last girl. Resonate with the trumpets, hear the organs come, ascend the stairs as smoke in riots, and most honorable thing is to respect the same image, perhaps witness the fight, delaying peace offer thirst, and be thrown with a treasure in the sustained tone of the water, but never look back, at least not to the morning hanging from the trees die.

is the kiss that deserves to be lived and not so much the lips. Is this the secret ceremony of my life, I invoke. And not a dull sentence, naked, miserable. His invasion force, however, to carry on their shoulders, the burning cross in one afternoon and, as land is not found, to escape the shadow of a great passing cloud, from the exile.

Dream. I dreamed since I was dead and pass the wagons, cleave its wheels, one by one, on the mudflats, with accurate pulse female blasphemy. I am the tree from which they flew all the birds and I am drunk, like a good perfume, bitterness. I just threw it has detached from the growing fire siege. I am the root celebrates its presence in the rain. I am the stone who sharpened machetes, the water in which swords are tempered. Today, I would like to escape his form, scratching other boundaries devastate extensions where there is no doubt. I spell in the game wandering trips. Summer I watch how the grapes are rotting. I am the amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire loses force set in the crown of kings. I am the fruit of which is fed not to fail, hate, needs salt depleted. Dreamed. I dreamed of the summits are not suspected by the blind eyes of the lakes during winter.

To you I surrender, drink my blood. The female I am offered in sacrifice to the dark floor.

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ensure Hourglass (Owned Exercise, Volume IV, an excerpt from Chapter 53)

Now. It's time to say adiós.Que new voices sing. Thanks.


"Millions of hands just to get in an hour. Have traveled to many different hourglasses of all sizes. What we fear of X decreases, which brings us back to ourselves. At the conclusion of the first, my nails have shone for a moment of consummation, and then I have fallen all ground, melting in ants of mercury. Now I have scented labyrinth where children used to have nails. Some also just spill their contents, just finished, poured, and hair by hair, strand by strand, I lose my hair are now aimed revolution sperm to fertilize the womb of existence. What was once a curly mane, envied by the wind, is now a crater skull very much like those of the distant moon. When will this end, I wonder what time. But it may, my question one of those last hours. My skin is wrinkled with age spots 3 rd, and one of those hourglasses sustained oxygen more gravity, no doubt considerable, lies already said goodbye to my skin turn into a snake infinite and that has made the ancient world outside of my sensory intuition beating a ball spell. I am a true reflection of the skeletons in anatomy classes and school visits first floor now closed. I can not deny my nature to ever changing state. But it must be said, before my tongue becomes a sea, before my throat is the underground corridor of those dungeons, it must be said, long before the privacy of eclipses, it should be, before, much earlier, before any numbering stands guard, is imposed, there is always a zero, a zero left, a zero does not count with his fingers crippled, one invisible crown, a bow in flames yesterday lions of water flowing through the twilight, a vagina that we espouse with his cosmic alliance with the great desire which no death cried tears of uterine involves manifest our own song, our continuous place in the world, vivid return, weaving and unraveling the same item in the cell of time, celestial spheres, spheres and more areas that we travel, demarcating the boundaries our capital miraculous walk we said, with his hands well to tell the time feared darkness, we were Darkener as Persia, we hid our lips under rocks melted, a zero order exemplified if need be, by the amazing context in which is limited. And my eternal night
goes back, ruffles his back, stretching like an invasion, just lit a yawn, back to my never-ending soul leaving the earth leading to my quicksand, lifted, lifted by its claws blinding initials perplexed him, strange to me, prophetic, that sensibly tell me who I am, who I am. But I'm not looking for my name, none of that, and do not jump from being to being with innumerable bells sewed for my soul over her hymen light the nine muses of Thrace, none of that, no be jumping to be. I tell you who I am. "

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Where is sewn OscurasUna empty suitcase in a circle of roses is the closest thing to your voice yesterday. Today however it impossible to breathe, hundreds and hundreds of light lips, an endless staircase, the same day endlessly. And always live on Friday, and is eternal spring in his hand I write.

eyelashes I grew watching him sleep. You knew his heart was beating a small sea, although they knew to wreck her kisses and childhood. As the people his kisses were full of gossip, and as in the capitals redhead voice changed with each season. You fell in love with the quiet rigor Light entering an empty room of an abandoned house. They put the names of cities to every part of your body oh yeah! and also named orphan tears you to you and your world map and your smile and your prayers and your oh! Ay! you fell when released to the woman by the guillotine in Sebastopol, to hear him shout "Fire!" in the besieged streets of Paris, or perhaps in the S. XVII when you reign in the capital of Desires and outpatient tell you dazzled the home he never knew, or perhaps in Berlin pursued by the SS, or when you peed over eleven years in a religion class, or to escape Ku Klux Virginia Klan contigo; seguramente fuera en un barco de esclavos que partía de Senegal, o cuando le enseñaste a escribir en la Universidad Popular en horario nocturno para inmigrantes.


Siempre te gustaron sus pies con erratas, sus labios incunables, sus olvidos paginados, las dedicatorias que te hacía con las miradas, y los versos que te escribía en la piel, noche tras noche, cada día.

¿Qué piedra no tropezó con esto? ¿Qué río no se ahoga en estas palabras? ¿Qué sol o luna llena no iluminó lo escrito? ¿Qué viento no propagó el rezo? ¿Qué sombra no se abrasó por dentro? ¿Qué camino no dejó de echar a andar su camino? What sea did not reach the end point and take it all for himself?

Everything is full of what does not. And my about me. Love

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A octavio
Mena and lover of sunsets
invoke you. When pests eat my feet hurt from wandering barefoot, when his saliva covered with vermin stinging my body, when the lips taste the strong smell of martyrdom, when the wind touches my eyes water swamped when the ear is accustomed to strange voices like a beast in its cage, when I crawl in the dust blind pursuit of a single trace of dawn, when the hands want to chime in that castle the enormous bells, I invoke you. Nomad

night you invoke. In the intact nana of frost on the nails start to scratch that last wishes, in the course of blood that reveals his heartbeat, in the procession of the wind that fans the flames, the wailing which devoured the sun with bone trumpet territories in the thick saliva that makes the voice a more severe beating in the cold that can only do remember walls in ruins, I invoke you.

A scorpion runs the stones and sand from my thoughts to end my skin is covered with scales and get nothing but swamps, marshes.

From this darkness where I live all of you as filling tall grass, not seen you, I can not see and however, deep, horizon, limit, mirror, water, I feel its light.

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I gave birth in an alley as the months starving plunged into darkness, head full of rain, and choke the reverence of his music at the foot of the cities infested. I nursed from the breasts of madness and bit down hard, and tasted the bitter pleasure of saps. This made my bones hard. Revealed enjoyed pleasures with women each with a different skin and dense wine poured from my latest passion in her moans, and widespread in the underground questions, similar to pain in men, communing with the confession night of each stroke. So my body burned as a desire always hectic. I walked barefoot until exhaustion, the embers of the game on the back of the nets of fear and ambush, and where I stand, I swear, lynchings of embarrassment, and I recruited in my silence with a plan soaked and my bled silence, therefore, with such vehemence, that cracked the walls of their closures. So returning to my soul die, bird after bird, all the sunrises.
Hear, hear him all my thoughts out of me there. I alone reign in the middle of a circle of black flames. There my voice is inexhaustible until the proclamation and grows. Extended its veins of necessity and it is too late to deny it. Any glimpse into my soul again. And why pretend the sea is close to each beat and how not to admire the distant horizon anxiously.
soon forget my mother tongue and would later regret of many, when you watch the monologue of nature, I went into the bush.
Blind as a light that shines and causes those days, did not cease to listen to the lullaby of relief today, I owned the beam before so violently, it never invoked my prayer with so many blackouts. Invaded my name with a black anthem and lift the assault. And I made my word with a wheelbase of eyes.

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A White, Carlos Launaz, and Miguel Cuadrado.


TODAY HAS ARRIVED IN A LETTER
from Island No. 67 Capital, Surf Avenue, Marsh,
know the sun and algae, by day and the wind, your back tanned by history, and I have received
in the room of clocks at the end of my eyes, how many nights I
scented hands with your words,
but how many years I have painted her mouth with the lipstick of your words,
and I have wrapped the furs
wild in my body soft as rivers, mild winter, soft ...
to see you again undressed in front of me
under transparent silks where your voice lives seized by the honey, I could caress
adverbs your hair, lipstick
had a neologism glorious
saw that in your legs had dots, and your breasts smell
to Oohhh! of children when the stories
to Oohhh! in fireworks, with a great magic trick,
and your arms were two exclamation marks that safeguard your existence, your existence
that glitters
your life mother of the vowels that spell a new alphabet.

You both trailed by now intend to stop writing forever.

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And lost again

flee the day in Pisa sky light clusters on other lands

and my fire will give you a kingdom
different from your name and my water

to sing naked black stones of your soul and our silence
sun burn ancient sea without a beach
the heart of death
and your name will fit all the stars in your soul
and harp melodies and purple irises
besases
after my sea foam livid
not earned and the costs were not enough besases
after my sea my sea
always wanted to be desert