the fate of the grass

the bird 

does not deceit itself

the plant

does not glorify the fruit

the pain

does not think of the nerve

the fate of the grass

is not significant for the deer 

the south

does not know of its north

the fear 

is not a distance between the night and the tree


is not crimson for its self 

the mountain

does not understand the peak’s altitude 

the world

feeds off the Instincts breast

it doesn’t have a name 

Other poems


I am suspicious of my memory it only recollects the reminiscences of the fall I am suspicious of the room; the objects are hovering in its air with a marvelous order  I am suspicious of my hand; it offers me a cigarette  and walks along the length of the room with me...

the unknown smiles

in the unknown outskirts unknown forms,   have unknown smiles    in the form of a circle, they sleep in the form of a rectangle, they go in the no angle form, they give birth   in the unknown outskirts, it is the wind that which is passing and on the distributed...


...  I remove the chair from myself, I remove the room from the chair, the wall I remove from the room,   a square with  four open sides,  I dismantle the four from the square, the sides I dismantle        from the four, I dismantle the square     from the sides,  ...


that being indeterminate and opaque is all possibility possible  (is the omnipotence of eventuality) it knows there is no other possibility  or we have forgotten, every possible way. 

appreciation letter

to the ritual for the anniversary of tomorrow to dig a hole in the wish that it rains  to that one that traveled to the past  and asked from the reason of the multiverse to the empty space between us to the things and distance from the great darkness to the great...

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