Tuesday, November 29, 2011


I wanted to move without saying anything

no solo es sospechoso

but I was white and I was marble and I was writing on the wall

and I wandered with my hand upon a surface and I pressed

the purple sandals in the sand.

Leaning out for

silver shards of splinter sunlight

Night shade

hiding on the island of the other

On the island run from

the ghost of

Run run the island and the waves.

white face of

One with the eyes open and unopen at random run some width of skin

It is sand

Counted in eyes open and unopen

In the water aunque no le salia lagrimas

Or hunted hunting spirits in the sea

whipped by the salt water light

As the breeze

None and a dinning room, the table cloth, the linens, and the folds


The white wet sheet

Island of an island wave

Wave the island from the shore body of the sea

sea bodies On the flame of the tide

On the underside

on undead skin

Some spirit whipped tremble

On tide, on red tide and on taste of water

on city under water

Lost like thought comes to edge.

Sometimes the spirit runs off in another

Some spirit runs on

Away on a wave

On the underwater roof

Of an underwater

ancient search

for Heroes in seaweed

Spirit greens

little toy boat toy cars and toy water colors bleed

And dilute

And drift away


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