Thursday, October 18, 2012


tantarroz tu sodade ,mighty
lapsus folded ,plan de ,cul
minar ,le pain .fogfled I
,gotta poop ,nor ,peldaño see
ming ch air ,sopa seca .pt
omaine an an iceberg ,my dungy
shoe flooded ,et ta main ,très
risible ,infonética ,pulmonar
yr gas ping shoulder severed
f ocus like that splashing
in the tank )rippled ,cr
awled( the tower dreaming
wav es your shirt tu pan
talón nadando dans la boue

He raised the spoon and coughed.
- Fr. M. Oth

olvido de la tinta

ya looted ink CRAW nap said ,bas
ta !the tented legs my s wallow fis
ted scRAWl a ,nostril song ,es
calera ,needles gargantescos ,wr
ITten with a file yr d ragging
soap cumPULsion ,wheezing
every bite o yr NOdding
bullet pen soaking in the pall
id sugar of yr neck hay
golpes en la flooded TV ,vi
da ...lo sé ,no ,aNOtado co
mo nido los ,cuyes dormidos
y las piedras se deswaken
,pertas ,inex ...el son nar
igón o ,)máscara de aire the(
,))laundry tumbling down hill((
)))río crashing in the stones(((

...fabeto es, y crito...
- César Vallejo

olvido del punto final

.jaw .ton .lop .mrate .fell
.blit .shell .apt .toad .nort
.chow .sog .flap .chase tore
.blangk .flab sort chain .cheese
.dream the lang fog .sweats
.ring time with sodden loot
.file .rain knot half business
stumbler note .bull .feel sat
behind shapeless politician rots noose
.drum .leak fold meat cloud
nods and flakes a .coughing
.dime muscled tooth yr tongue
stuck in sweet blood .slathered
.reached the fog watch ladder
rusting in weeds below the
.tower .the tower .the towerrr

- Catulo

Olvido de Byron
“For in it lurks...”,
Lord Byron, The Giaour, 1813

nod focused lint on cliff he
belts the scorned bloody hand
the truly apeish smell invisible
to all but him scurrilous nape
dancing with lice’s grave flash
of’s unearthly wave’s my
ass pyration cornered in the
much of times the glancer f
lopping in my trousers ah
nameless spell !the gazer
slept unspeakable and claims
the bird the sock puppet
met alone ,your pale lip
blister ghastly quivers
!yr swallowed birth dou
bles in that spitting doom
yr dribbling features vulgar
in the wading gloom

¡Quítate los lentes!
- Ramón López Velarde


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