IN THE STREETS, IN THE BONES IN THE POOLS. Marian
image authoring José Manuel Ramentol
... it hurts my shoulders the narrowness of the land. Luis Rosales
Faith makes me
street words,
blood passage where solitude
directs traffic bones, groans Thursday, November 11, 2010
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stepping compressed tile mouths of light, sunsets crumpled
vinegar 
with letters and blood stationed on the edge of the blade, about to bite the verticality of man, first- arteries, eyes birthed out of time.
My hands smell like bells as the sound rolled back,
with the pain of mud down the stairs of the years between the claws
sugar and shadows still not baptized, and I feel
all begins again in the streets,
in the wound, bone, in the puddles.
in the wound, bone, in the puddles.
------------------------------------------------ ---------------- Poem poems belonging to With my name on the bed bent
, won the national award
Chords (Espiel). 2010.
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