656 2 1
|
(it) looks out at the world
from behind a film
(it) does not participate
(it) is slow to love
. . .
There is the image
And they say they are
in the world
. . .
Blood does not
shake their hearts
They lie and
take your s
|
58130
|
They like drugs
They are concerned with the self (alone)
and they say they are
in the world
. . .
Maybe they don't have this blood
that calls out to them
or they do not hear it
Ride in their convertibles
unconcerned
Nothing is
calle
|
67100
|
Maybe love shouldn't exist
. . .
If we follow this notion
there is no great need
Where does it come from,
this great need?
. . .
If (it) is in the blood
how do they get it out?
If not,
where is it
If they do not allow
thought
|
78180
|
The soul was in the eyes but (it) isn't
The animal is in the body and can't be hidden
One senses the density of the blood there
Occasionally the soul rises to the surface
Occasionally the animal comes into the eyes
They use people and throw them away
|
77010
|
They use people
then throw them away
They are after the image
There is a desperation in (it)
They behave as if they must have it
It must be a drug
to them
Are they that able?
. . .
They bring it over here and then all they want
is im
|
6143
|
chlorinated water sits between me
and a little brown girl
|
90800
|
the gambling priest stands in the morning fog/red moon hangs in the sky/the army of seven houses marches over the hill
|
93831
|
I know you through the rich dark brown soilcrumbling in my fingers like chocolate cake.I imagine you nurtured bell-shaped papayas,coaxing their smooth, leathery skinfrom green to yellow,while mangoes, the colors of the island sunset,hung with their tantalizing sweet…
|
51643
|
if we can just make it to the zocalo, we will be safe
|
13800
|
Things said in the note I put under your door: I want to scream love words at the ocean. When I open my mouth, the moon is getting full, it has taken about four weeks. There is something resting on your shoulder, it's me when you aren't…
|
85500
|
the odd stone stands/taller than trees/it protrudes from the young forest/an old mecca but smooth
|
5732
|
In the misty afternoon Ramona looked for his swagger of blue.Blue denim.And in the humid night she waited to feel his rough lips.Rough and salty.In the sunny morning she wanted to be someone else.Someone worthy and good.
|
6921
|
I can't tell the difference between my hands and my heart. I use them the same, they are both being pulled toward the ocean. Out of the beach grass begins a trail I made in the sand. Made by the dragging of limbs. I spent more than half the…
|
1910
|
Tell me, sir, you, the one with the words on your lips,
is that word soil, or soul?
I can’t see too well anymore, so maybe just tell me.
I wanted to hear it once more, in someone’s voice
other than mine. Soil? Or is it soul?
|
85900
|
destinies bring me to a damned desert
|
