Alexandro Johns Poems
Comments about Alexandro Johns
The king shot elephants,
he shamed forever his grandchildren
and now like an old pachyderm
he limps close to the Stygian lagoon.
He carries an erect cold of crotch
before of blondes where they ignited flames
and his decrepit gesture curses the sorrows
already without anything where to put his look
except the withered legacy of his kingdom.
She In My Memory
It carries me the sadness
enemy that today drags me
as a sexual water
that flows through my memories
when I was flying against her
in a joyful present
evocation that now like a dry bell
it shakes off without tolling in my thought.