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poem

una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
para mirar todo el dia la onda azul encresparse y romperse
era muchas y mucho hace un año
como ella
dentro de mi mano sostengo
arriba y abajo de él va
en alguna parte leí un cuento extraño, viejo, oxidado
la pienso espléndido justo
en la medianoche
hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
hay un país por completo del vino
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves

 



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