Thursday, July 27, 2017

Elia Casillas: FOR THIS HEBREW

The graveyard beats my race again,

     And I do not see the glow of the dress,

I have a drunk belly,

But I'm not on the hips

And my eyes

Are dismantled on the edge of the coffee.

I do not go, I do not stay,

This break is swirling,

It's my sharp doubt

Howling at the drug on his thighs.

Blistering the helplessness

And the echo of the void,

Why God is not  here!

Remove your words

And let the orgasms crash my pride,

I should have blinded the sneakers when you passed,

Since yesterday, I'm one more foot

Behind his fire.

Is eating me

And his babilla hurts,

Fate put him in these arms

And I delete it.

In this exile I eclipse,

I assure your image in the sound,

I am afraid of this hard fellowship

Where we are

Like two steaming droplets of copal

In the whirlwind of the ages.

I listen to every fragment of that long


The lips still have the chill of the back,

In the entrails a fire is ripening,

It's time to tune the belly

And riding a sky of Alondras
In the shadow of God.

He clasped his strand in his hands,

Its edges are slip

And quitapesares,

Sink my fingers in my nostalgia

And is pleased to shoot messages

Who steals the tenderness.

The dust of my poetry slides in the


And where they are, they are born

And they break mirrors that reflect nothing.


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