Thursday, October 28, 2010

8 Month Old With Measles







movements

In the leaves of the sweet soul
miracle of your hands.


affections fall apart as if love was just a crime.



shamelessness to not resign

spike late in the solitude of stolen fruit.
Today the shadow of death
It lies in the threshold of your door. In a ceremony

whip lashing runaway Vertigo

seed that clings to silence. Dime

Where the battles are bleeding? Silence



As a rough diamond in the light of silence

indivisible
expands to choose the beat
of hours sailing

sliding towards the direction of the crowds. Ventura



As spike upward mouth

sacred word and let your virtues pure
at the root of the alphabet
where the air does not expect anything as long as love gallops

in lines of wheat. Hours





birds have fled their sad wings on his chest toward the deep
fatigue
space for only find peace and refuge
flew up the sky breaking
fever triggering lightning. Maturity



the gift of water on which syllables drops


seduce the flower spray primer,
sap that collects the highest vocabulary
interior. Duplication




shadow precipitates to the ground before the wound

stalling the territory and as a beacon
dream, illusion,

leaves her singing in the twilight of the wind. Directions




The single rose opens to the morning

donating their spring seed
capricious thorns that hold hours of breaking the drunken wreck
flows that sustain the souls
islands. Rossana Arellano

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