Monday, March 22, 2010

small crushed poememe


deshacerse (o la tigresa)

miles de inútiles besosabrazos digitales,

we behold many small folds of skirts gathering and pleated,

paper crane kaleidoscopes que se están desmayando por tanto twisting,

bare feet brown from back and forth of pacing,

the wild tiger thrashes at encagement

growls forgotten and collapses

coastlines of architecture, undanceable, u n da nc es

la miramos and she is pelted by our gazes



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