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Thursday, September 14, 2017

Elia Casillas: ... there is party in hell that does look us.

In the inspiration of the night, with the amber leaves, I leave in the ambush of thought. The dust accumulates in the lines and breaks the cover of oblivion. Night obsession dances on the ailerons of memory and between the furrows of my letters, the becoming of the ashes, blue tide in the burned hours of the nails. In the center of these pages: the images, their aroma does not groan in the fire that seeks it. I wake up and I can go to happiness dressed in red and no one would know that my heart rises in a plastic society. Docile in the cushions, the present and the legs are burned in the enthusiasm of this body. The mosquitoes parade in the perfume of a lady, I go in my flame and move the hips to return me, there are pain in the streets and stun, there is  party in hell that does  look us.
                     

Navojoa, Sonora, 11/11/11






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