Poetry & Prose
-the list goes on, on and on, names and dates i've forgotten,
but were an intense vivid and you-always-think-it-will-be-there in deep indigo, mirrors, the tiny magic stage--
maybe, maybe--like the song says, 'some other spring'-- for the ghosts, and onwards, 'for the living--
Como buscar una parte de ti mismo.
Mirate en un espejo y vete a ti mismo
Mira las caracteristicas de tu rostro
Mira el ser detrás de esos ojos
Todas tus facciones
El tipo de nariz que tienes
El arqueado de tus cejas
El contorno de pómulos y boca.
If history repeats itself then the story of conquering Hernan Cortes is on the shelf while pol, Joe Crowley‘s hunkering down. She’d said she wouldn’t back the candidate if she should entertain defeat, but campaigned like a potentate, as capable as she seemed sweet.
I remember when we woke together in the ancient streets of Spain
I remember I felt a strong shiver which could heal any pain
when the fantastic windows whispered in my ears " hello "
I couldn't dare to reply
I thought that voice came from my fellow
so I began to spy
XYK repeating, replicating the shattered bits of his refracted nullity, the shadow of his elemental hatred sombresaulting up from the endless slurry of his hatchery, where he fluffs the nearly hairless balls of his projective fantasies, cross breeds a sickly effluent with it's cousins, lies and slander, takes the broken offspring of this noxious union and remates it