Those interested can read the last comment has been posted on the "latter rain" Lomas Morales, Ediciones Carena, Barcelona, \u200b\u200b2009 at the following link
Some
poems in this book:
CONSISTENCY OF THE NIGHT
this decline was always united us as a caress
leaving human
profile. Decline in its shadow.
A sunset with words
walls that are entangled with the consistency
night. With brigands and belly dancers. Small betrayals
lights and the moon with his memories of mystery words
to wet. Just darkness.
Or maybe the wind with its tumult.
Now that we live
slows and nobody expected us to enter the harbor with their vocation
nap, I sacrifice my commitment
clarities and remember you on the edge of a flight,
as the first day we reveal . END OF SPRING
was just a man with the noise of the world. Women
hosted by the brightness of the shots.
And then the gap grows between the sand
as passion.
The world was calm and silent
home. Evening came, and God was not to press
lute
of his music. Only the man in shadow. We knew
be perfect with death,
give wings to the darkness and into the air.
Invisible Women and men dead.
the world is saying goodbye and tumult. Without the mercy
molding
hate whistling. And the earth being stone.
No strings guitars.
hands beings to wield great
dirt chords and disappointment.
The world was calm and silent
house, but the man moved
the stars and the garden with doves
was hesitant night owl.
this decline was always united us as a caress
leaving human
profile. Decline in its shadow.
A sunset with words
walls that are entangled with the consistency
night. With brigands and belly dancers. Small betrayals
lights and the moon with his memories of mystery words
to wet. Just darkness.
Or maybe the wind with its tumult.
Now that we live
slows and nobody expected us to enter the harbor with their vocation
nap, I sacrifice my commitment
clarities and remember you on the edge of a flight,
as the first day we reveal . END OF SPRING
was just a man with the noise of the world. Women
hosted by the brightness of the shots.
And then the gap grows between the sand
as passion.
The world was calm and silent
home. Evening came, and God was not to press
lute
of his music. Only the man in shadow. We knew
be perfect with death,
give wings to the darkness and into the air.
Invisible Women and men dead.
the world is saying goodbye and tumult. Without the mercy
molding
hate whistling. And the earth being stone.
No strings guitars.
hands beings to wield great
dirt chords and disappointment.
The world was calm and silent
house, but the man moved
the stars and the garden with doves
was hesitant night owl.
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