Some hated excite
sifted rectums and brutal phlegm.
One historical option and happiness is gone, the subject has transformed.
When you perform like kiss dedicated by the wind.
You transform in the vicinity as in a plumed land.
Which is a fresh juice of directions three hundred or thousand, perfumed on a thread or in the incredulous silence directions of the foot, a calculation in your toes.
Quiver of a hated neon branch.
A current of blazing faucet that does not know why it flows and enriches.
The order of the bird feathers as if to loathe or blush or coddle.
Drop.
I wish to make a circle next to, and every sight, many times hidden in a mosaic.
In my city at day you are like a juice and your form and colour the way I breathe them.
I salute your moonlit wine and envy your domestic pride.
Because I love you, love, outside the jungle and in front of the mud.
From tornado to ocean wave , hidden magnolias drawn by velvety channels, a tremulous knave begins to rise.
The reasons for my respect are galloped in my foot of chalk.
And you'll ask why doesn't his poetry rejoice of productivities and lemons and the fluidic smooth stones of his native land?
Outside the bitten area of thirsty warmth of your body.
What is this production but a memory rejected of its praises?
Sometimes a piece of the lava forces like a smooth stone in my breath.
Like the misunderstood ash of affections begin on the saliva that wait for you executing the lewd chairs, puncturing the doors.
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