I feel responsible for this poem
on your tongue and my mouth
silent kisses the window from which to observe the horizon
to finish a verse. Each verse carefully hides a lie
indestructible. In the words live
fingers disintegrate
contact with life. I'm invisible
to give you a paper on which you travel
lines full of echoes and portents
following with your eyes
fingerprints with which you can return to the starting point.
Nightfall
again I offer no longer receding lines, syllables
sliding on eyebrows and eyelashes
you believe in finding that intimacy that shines
few seconds and then disappears.
say that this poem will never do justice. You say that the future
beats with the right pace.
say you must pass a sponge for every metaphor
to know how I feel. And finally
tell you about love to all this
dwell in a poem and in the mouth of a
boxer who lost his lips for talking too much. ___________________________________________
