Saturday, October 06, 2018

Alone, without your shadow: Elia Casillas

look at the pain that broke down without her
With watercolor on the hair
paints a gloomy sky in each wound
tied to the easel of his curse
cultivates a sad centennial in the eyes
and arrows
spread on the bed
stir up the Calvary

more alive than ever
In the  skeleton of death
we love your ribs
because we are switched on mud that flies
flies  and
  Fly badly dear
like you
not to get lost in daily turbine
to heal the faith that your hands enliven
       you stay in the retina of time
                                                                                             looking for yourself

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