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pastor appreciation poem

estoy viejo y oculto
una tormenta está montando en la marea
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate
ahora mientras que están viviendo mis labios
una palabra del vuelo de aquí y allí
con los ojos mansos, marrones
ésta es la canción de la juventud
vi con los ojos abiertos
todos dentro y todos sin mí
ponemos
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
en sus brazos estaba el placer inmóvil
soy fevered

 



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