lunes, 1 de octubre de 2012


Back left pink crystals
of my now dry garden of liquors,
a truce with my feel
and came by with another mouth,
b ut shake my clothes and not get nothing.

I'm sad and they say it is the wind
of a fragile slip in a time of random !

Why me torment in the pale calm?;
I See your small rowing boat anchored
on the other nearby bank,
but no it comes out of my mouth the golden foam.

Why break my salty drop
in thousands of sharp drops
that cover of metallic sea my dwelling ?.
Give me a fingerprint of your wide Avenue?
Is so tiny also your door!;
and it is that I have a huge little cabin
it prepared on top of my mountain.

xurxo fernandez gonzalez