All where foot sleep like in a grave
these are the most expensive shoes
I ever weared
Even you can't mind about it
Now
wounds grow like capitals
and I retract from everything
I see
Is in front of me
behind
better not look back
might turn on an orphan thought
This pure deadly cat snoring
all all everything wounds me
Remember the shoe
both feet weared
slithering same blood through veins
beating steps rounds like dark clocks
behind their crystal case
You'll never remind me something lost
Behind this dead face
pale sea waves smile
2 comentarios:
esto es punto y a parte, no más pa que lo leas:
Grass
The living room is overgrown with grass. It has
come up around the furniture. It stretches through
the dining room, past the swinging door into the
kitchen. It extends for miles and miles into the
walls . . .
There's treasure in grass, things dropped or put
there; a stick of rust that was once a penknife, a
grave marker. . . All hidden in the grass at the
scalp of the window . . .
In a cellar under the grass an old man sits in a
rocking chair, rocking to and fro. In his arms he
holds an infant, the infant body of himself. And
he rocks to and fro under the grass in the
dark . . .
Russell Edson
y luego, también me dio por escribir en inglés, no tan chido como tú, just write in english? WTF?
en fin
Publicar un comentario