La Patria del Poeta | Miguel Oscar Menassa-1991 |
POETICAL ART
Poetry I know, while I write you I stop living. I surrender myself, sweetly, my illusions, my poor proletarian sins, my bourgeois vices, still, before penetrate your body, -tapestry in love- I stop my way of life, miseries, craziness, deep black passions, my way of being. Empty of my things, wrapped in the flag of nothing transparent of so much solitude, invisible and open, permeable to the mysteries of your voice, I try, sonorous slash on the world’s skin, the skin of death the skin of every thing. Poetry, over your skin, flash of sounds, beams of passion, ineradicable splinter of my name.
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