Tuesday, January 1, 2019

mirror ,steam

chews un negck an c hews
at what ,it's tumba tatumba
,shady lung renamed a fork
.peeler wind ,wallowed dark the
sun yr clinging honey in the al
phabet alfabetoide or rinsing
the hot garbage pail its textural
seeds stunk and handed cough
the last bright orange .it blew
next Thursday or not a
breathless storm ,or was ,a
loomed plunge toward un alma
arenosa ,tela de dientes
fĂștiles mas sin embargo
.your distant phone your
osseous shaving of the lumination

...el agua
que surtiera de todos los fuegos.
- CĂ©sar Vallejo


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