of epic Dark (unpublished)
old
My mother every day, is entrenched in their pills:
the blue for the pain that breaks the back, the white
will stimulate the flow of blood, the rose
gives him the dream of the night,
calcified red density is low its skeleton.
My mother has managed to addict too late.
my mother in her old age suffer from dry eye left
And if you cry about something, you tear morning two empty deserts.
As if that were not enough, suffers from selfishness,
maturity but we took care of everyone.
I never knew his happy childhood, although
had any.
They seem to confirm some photographs that reveals a fascinated air
to Imperio Argentina. So long ago can not remember
kisses or love affairs.
has arrived, what a shame-a
decrepitude and the size has diminished so that now
not find the waist that was passionate and children.
can still know me, but not interested
beyond the moment I know
adult embrace, under darkness. Do not want
-is natural and logical for me to drag a limb that is not theirs.
My mother gets rid of
itself and us with great reluctance.
Focus on your health that is fading
grows as time accumulates.
But even flirts with the mirror I see Green
, son, this was not my color.
already know "I tell her how beautiful you were.
(And I know that I act very badly in the past.)
Of all my sisters, really, the most beautiful. And repeats eight hundred
ninety-eight times how beautiful she was.
And if the kidneys, crying like a little girl.
But never compromise with the decrepitude
it useless prisoner says
in a gesture of suppressed rage, and demands
with salt tears
only day the plot of its own.
. Δ
. Δ
travelers
write, for now, from this airport
where the air is absent and the gate of destiny.
The floor is polished by transits and goodbyes and I write
choked
shady solitude after many years they have been homeless.
At the mercy of oblivion always awkward, remote passenger travel
stays riddled banks whose light variegated:
new flamboyant executives in suits, tourists
Harlequins stubborn anxious
of scheduled courses, couples
thaw
with the urgency of love nailed the look ...
All human vanity fair errant partners
more sad, lonely and dark
keep his distress at a newspaper
with me here at departure time.
is a crowd in the lobby dismisses
open
breathing vacuum left here that different transient dark.
Very serene, the edge of nowhere, the air traffic
share
crouched trying to forget the forgotten.
A modern airbus will escape these shadows.
Its modern suitcases to slogans rare
will carry the secrets kept a hand in distant room.
I bought some sweets shop, a perfume
Italy without taxes and I had a coffee sitting on the edge
of urgent concern to alert speakers.
Meanwhile, a gentleman glances
me prone to urinary and kids
excursion away from their parents, school trip certainly
I booted up the soul in his rampage.
And now I embark
soulless, with a dull oblivion.
My air is absent and the ground and flying
intangibles farewells.
flickering corridors.
Δ
lost lovers
Who would decipher the signs of his fingers
at night on the back friend.
The night so far completed fifteen
against so much concern that the pulse imprisoned;
night
flushed seventeen those who drank the other acidic springs sex
pressed completely failed.
shelter the night of the Awards night: sweet
roulette was sentenced to be together
dissidents their bodies at the expense of a sheet,
Iron Curtain better than that other Eastern.
The night of the party, the pension dark, damp
in town, dodging
for five beds were two without square as possible,
a lot of luck and three blue
envy in the remote, but love drinking
drink harvest with restless reserved.
How fortunate to know the deal quiet,
and two in the bed next to nudity
that everyone loved: a fabric is distance
and modesty, not the skin, a very thin fabric of
pulpits and deep prayers and commandments.
And when the lights went out, and spurs,
something written on the back of his friend and erased
with outstretched hand, caress best ever, to keep saying
with road signs or
indecipherable book of hidden desire, history
cuneiform writing tremor,
not a type of God prophesied both
and stop such confusion signals.
Who was going to translate the hieroglyphic
the smaller of the two proposed in freshly shaken
traps, just amazed,
certainly as tense as that
erection that caused the greatest silent words, words
understood only in the skin taken
dictation. The back, storm and dunes.
And in that next to that without the Nazis, absurd,
against each other, border the sheet,
pupils without sleep, with dreams back
and thick as lava, the one after the other, forming
worst logo with their bodies never
crossed the dark night of shelter, the
constraint night, separated only by a curtain
of wear from steel, canvas
a shroud enveloping love
born dead, that did not prevent the hand of the youngest
tell
quiet back finally accept a kiss from his mouth,
or not said that, who knows what he said,
if the speech was touching or path was not
lassitude rather than darker game.
Was much the friendship of older, she loved him,
that was ceded to the desire or fear of both
what languages \u200b\u200bbanned entangled in dialogue? Perhaps
were pulpits wire spikes,
those fiery pulpits, like ramparts of man hit
hunger, edited, educated
in such prohibition was bleeding passion. About
beeswax back had little
write another mourner, how I love you,
and repeat the sample pulse and the phalanges,
silenced lips, open the dark
that kiss had found no way.
Beneitez Ángel Fernández (Zamora, 1955) has published Spirals (Sañudo Foundation Barquin, Toro, 1980), On the banks of joy (Ayuntamiento de Teguise, Lanzarote, 1989), Epistolio (Libertarian, Madrid 1994), innocent conduct (La Palma, Madrid, 1998), The outfit of the night (The drunkenness, Zamora, 2002) Fall Notebook (Elguinaguaria, Arrecife, 2002) , The mist system (Iria Flavia, La Coruña, 2004) and The calm sea (Cyclops Editors, Reef, 2007).
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