an erasure of Federico Garcia Lorca’s Romance Somnambulo (tr. William Logan)
dream her
flesh, her hair
eyes of
I want you
watching
how I want you
Big stars
come
open
with the sandpaper of
dreaming in
her mirror,
My friend, I come
from the gates of
possible
Don't you see the wound
thirsty dark roses
ooze
round the corners
of the moon
up high
Leaving a trail of
trembling
tambourines
a strange taste
Post a Comment