All the sorrowful objects
Between us
is the lost meanings
of anger.
Feeling every fear
how the waters pool
in different lands.
In the forest of daring visions,
just a little longer
like the crack.
Los muertos,
lost dreams
and forgotten secrets.
Many time spun
with illusion,
most vile
and atonable.
Of captivated
your feet dangle,
pleasurable,
possessed,
of the devil.
We pry it open,
raise high your scavengers
getting right to the point.
It was her way
tearing me apart
with her borrowed claws.
First, you must open your mouth
hearts in barbed wire
under the wartime blue.
2010
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