Wednesday, November 2, 2011

WIND MASK


sopor y ,ensalada ,drapes
the final floor your so
ot her slippers footstepped
in a ,splashage to the
,mother side ,the arch of
Labná streaming in the air ~
.insolation ,urbulencia o
mis ,colmillos de hoja b
lanca que se comen ,au
tomasticantes like my s
hirt stuffed in your
face

)them hormigas clustered at
your neck( “he” ashed
my torcèd shade for
stockings crammed into
the shelves the buried
words learn my dust
and eggs his huevos
itchy ,lettuce an da sp
iders on your knees he’s
through the gap filled with
sun and rain

“the story sleeps and splits its teeth”

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