My days transform into a drama. I am but a man with a name written backwards. The one that hides his hands behind his back. My road is rather tired. … Children on… Continue reading
. My dad is dead but he doesn’t know that. He is sitting in the courtroom, bench number 3, his hair unkempt, shirt all wrinkled, looks like he doesn’t see me, just there.… Continue reading
gravures by David Audibert . The hands that held me didn’t get me a little sun was needed there and only my necktie had that of the hands that held me there was… Continue reading
. No doubt there is still at the end of the street Where I used to walk when I was little a pond of oil A rectangle of heavy death under black sky.… Continue reading
On her way to death my mother ran into a giant pack ice She wanted to talk It was already late The pack ice was of cotton wool. . She looked at us And… Continue reading
. Gold glitter is composed of tiny disks of shiny metal that pierced in the middle, thin and light can float on water. There is always one or two of them in the… Continue reading
Of the wounds received by Christ it is the side one that really touches me the flower of flesh that a country doctor comes to heal in my dream a man armed with… Continue reading
. No winter in my life neither place nor time but who no longer hears the sound of water as of now I don’t call this world a bath of poison I don’t… Continue reading
. The traveler who crossed the market place that early summer was tip-toeing Meanwhile despair rolled its splendid arums in the sky And in that woman’s purse there was my dream that smelling… Continue reading
. A leaf of a plant falls down to the ground. Abandoned and hemorrhaging, it is soon drenched in blood; breathing becomes more and more labored, death comes when it turns tobacco brown;… Continue reading
