la política del fin

nihil et beauty ,shorn

,the ladder and’s fallen

hair ,a sweaty sh

adow que los pel

daños trepa ,trepi

dation ,the hairless

rungs ,where the thick

and blind ,failing

,thread the skinny

hole ,if’s there ,of

human’s stream ,was

forks and windows

,clattering the windy

wig of bedrooms

and toilets ,roof or

skull ,a stone ,f

alling toward the

yard ,where nothing

thinks in its end

...pareció querer hablar

como un estrangulado.

- José Lezma Lima

m ists

loco ,ation ,in the cal

yx abierto , las ab

ejas mot ores ,one

the p lace or thinks

the sky ,is one and log

os ,dim on the ot

her side ,pólen del

aire denso ,y por

los ojos respiro ,las

transitivas tijeras que

el precipicio diminuto

conllevan ,g low in

the brum a ,lugar

inverso ,nunca lo

mismo ,ni miasma

perversa

mot hs

thug mote ,or syntax

falling ,from the c

heck you s crawled

a gnat extended ,ex

tent of’s extant s

lavering’s the rect

angular screen ,f

olded and sweat ,in

the skin pocketed

shirt you defolded

from its sleep of

70 anular yawns

,and dropping the

pen ,where yr words

,mites ,grunt once

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