Poema Seen From The Outside
The Spirit of Poetry transports me
To the shapeless region where I spend long hours, motionless
In the silence before the Creation of thing, terrifying.
Suddenly I extend my right arm into space and everything incarnates.
The fresh dung of voluptuousness warms the earth.
The fish germinate in the vastness of ocean.
The crowds rush to the public square.
Brothels and churches, lying-I hospitals and cemeteries
Stand up in air for Good and for Evil.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014