Your mouth comes to me, only your mouth.
comes flying
dragonfly blood flare
that lights my night this ash.
entire sea salt dwelling in her,
the whole sound of the sea,
all foam.
Boca drawn for kisses ,
where tantalizing your tongue sleep.
entire world wine is in your mouth,
all the sin
and all innocence.
Boca shut up and when he says, hidden.
Capable of your mouth the whole truth,
the whole truth and lies.
Laugh your mouth and wake up the day.
(Lightning snow there in your laughter.)
As a herd of ponies run over me
kissing your delicious mouth,
your mouth, butterfly wrong,
your mouth others that is blurred
in my circle night and ash.
Tag Archives: kirjandus
Mario Bojorquez – Award
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As the last day does not return
You’ll never be that high voice
Tundía under the breath of infinite almonds
A lullaby to his chest
You will not have to be that
That shade of a poplar
Rent the air with scattered notes
The subtle scent of an afternoon on the river
There will be no day you return to your expense
Filled with memories of the dark obsequious
Solar excessive idleness
Cerns perfect
As the last day does not return
You never on your own steps
A walking path open for you
In the garden that keeps your memory
Not even in deserted Frond you will have to tread
To you because transit between fig fruit
Pomegranates, flowers at your feet
You’re just now that you did not want
You’re the one who did not know what he wanted to say
Greedy mouth no fruit chews
That spoiled, bitch, feast and festival
You’re the insaciado looking with envy
The overwhelming joy of others
Whoever hurts to the bone for the innocent laughter
It will cloud your eyes with anger
It will swell cruel hands remorse
It poisons your blood
What fire, what abandonment
How miserable are the shores of life
As the last day does not return
No back in you will concoct bells
Holidays in flowered fields
Neither your hands browned wheat of eras
Nor whiten your snow on your mill
As if you had closed universe
In a thick fog that prevents you
Learn what the rock crevice
That must be the source where you drink
As if the universe against you
Injected into the air that poison
Bending your knees
So as the day turns
A spin on its hinges hours and passes
And overhead the sun will go down
Lost to
So you lose
So as you lose you lose
The scent in the air that always blows hard
You’ll miss so terribly
That to your eyes can recognize your own skin
Neither your ears hear your voice
As if talking on another that you
Not even your blood
It will respond pálpito
And the tongue utter
A language that is unknown to you today.
Do not grieve Hurt to lose.
You call Bitter, in your gums
It will bloom a garden of tree-scale
And in your head start seborrhea high tufts
Niagara mist in your eyes
You call without reproach wounded
The living skin ulcer land where you step
Without faith you call
And there will be another you
Built in penalty
That round will infect
Leprosy is righteous
It must distinguish in the market
The mob cried
He will announce you arrive
The stench of your acids
The clear bell is anticipated
And you wondered why back
Why and what
And what return
If the return would smell bouquets awaiting your step
If yes minor fronds fruit curds, cheerful blooms, light concrete and acid,
And back with an army of sources nymphs dancing for you
If I go back in the water, ductile, light, fluent, if in the air
If you awaken in the back you are, if you come back spin, spinning, start from yourself
If you become, if you founded back, come back without hesitation
Although recent days should not happen again
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Robert Creely – To And
puppets very bold
sidewalk city flesh
tattooed by footsteps, rain
and spat out gum,
the night seemed so small
it could be contained in a can,
as walking
with hands held as consideration
more than love,
beneath our feet
the city, this beast
harbored many grudges
that seeded into nature
love affairs
side alley muggings
and falling down drunk,
when we found a moment
of thought connecting,
we spoke,
our arrangement was one
created from physical neglect
and no love or lingering passion
would occur,
yet we parted with difficulty
returning to the oblique swathe
of our normal lives,
brought a fear
neither of us could confront
yet truth would not let us
concede to the other
new york at night – vivienne gucwa
Miguel de Unamuno – My Vulture / Mi Buitre
This ravenous vulture grim scowl
that devours me the fiery bowels
and my only constant companion
till my pain with his hooked beak.
The day we touch the last sip
I rush my black blood, I want
it leave me with him alone and landmark
a moment, no one as hindrance.
Well I want to win, doing my agony
as he my last stripping swallows
surprise in his eyes somber
look to see the fate that threatens
without this dam as satisfying
the terrible hunger that never goes out .
and in Spanish
Este buitre voraz de ceño torvo
que me devora las entrañas fiero
y es mi único constante compañero
labra mis penas con su pico corvo.
El día en que le toque el postrer sorbo
apurar de mi negra sangre, quiero
que me dejéis con él solo y señero
un momento, sin nadie como estorbo.
Pues quiero, triunfo haciendo mi agonía
mientras él mi último despojo traga,
sorprender en sus ojos la sombría
mirada al ver la suerte que le amaga
sin esta presa en que satisfacía
el hambre atroz que nunca se le apaga.
on notable sea
tone dialing remedy
better than those gulls
filling the air with
pull of sea,
encroaching on ears
cochlea tremors
insistent and provocative,
life needed to be in boxes
without labels,
identifying was not the issue
it was separation,
the telephone a child
cradled under chin
suckling on words,
spectacles perched with vertigo
on top of a crooked nose,
lips always poised
to speak but that was of
no consequence as sound
could carry further than voice,
a scream long prolonged
that was what pain brought,
gulls worse than cicadas
blood curled into fingers
then returned leaving them white
and grasping
still nothing,
slit your veins and fill a boat
with a swilling legacy
of something that
should of been,
letting gulls fall
bathing feathers redder
dVersePoets
horizons last echo
april sky so soon
drifting on a serpents tail,
leave things unsaid
as land sloop nods it’s sails
passing by
current winds darkly,
past rises and falls
heart regains soft perfume
and patient curve of dreams,
the dose of milky words is measured
and watch strong veins yield,
fertile nymph swift winged
with gentle reprimand and sweet caress
each phrase an anchor
she is the earth i sought
connect and chains alike rendered
into length across the gulf
range to stars and hand shaped sun,
beam downward facing light
it’s shift as hot as a hammer strike,
layers heat stripped back
pool of her shine
into a naked dance
witnessed by constellation
who appraised and agreed,
becoming fugitives
beyond a shouting earth
we fled on the arch
of freedoms ray
Charles Bukowski – Last Straw
Charles Bukowski one of his last readings in 1980
velvetmedia 