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Poem
When death had nestled, a lady overwhelmed by sleep,  
Between the chasms of my being, like a butterfly in a cocoon,  
I embraced her to my chest that whispered seraphic tales,  
And I heard the rustle of sharp wings in her dental silence.

She detached from herself, now a shadow that hides,  
Shackled by day, in the whirlwind of her adornment,  
The lights of the cosmos are veils that weave her secret of years,  
Born in the underwater mirror, the natural echo that unravels and flees,  
Never to die, a destiny among waves, suspension in the eternal sea.

Sometimes her face widens, akin to runic writing,  
The wind ruffles the lake's mirror,  
Among waves of days, dolphins of hope dance,  
At the gate of senses they arch, in the eyes of the new world we all reflect.

Other times the crucifix weighs down, the nose follows the curvature of the spine,  
Veins stretch from eyes, iron bent by fearful anchors.  
Uncomfortable remains the act, to melt in your own ember,  
Just to leave behind scars, a storm of the self.

Sticky lover, parent of emotional drought,  
If only to the celestial surgeon you would call,  
You'd change lives hidden in the celestial shrubbery.

Injustice pulses,  
I age, so do you,  
But I never catch up to you,  
You initiated me in your dance with death,  
Taught me to master the final rhythm,  
In contours I did not desire,  
Yet I aspire to a shock that trembles you,  
My twin tree,  
To pour its leaves, a spectacle in the center of spring,  
Reminding me through offering what gain there is beyond being.

Love me with the swift blaze of moments.

In our chambers flowed the sweetest kernels,  
Oracle squirrels preserving the future in the vessels of the moment,  
Winter capturing the elixir that drains with the stems of waters,  
To return, to find raw sugar, shards of sweetness of yesterday,  
Nets of mist, the piercing wings of the wind,  
Meadows of frozen memories.

Then, when I open the yawning mouth: crater,  
Heavy blisters I carry as shoes for moon jumping.

Guards gather in the hall, waiting,  
Ghostly slips at the back door.  
The bloom hangs suspended in the heavy air,  
The fat covering - a feeling of leaf, perhaps wing.

Two bodies, like pillars, keeping between them  
A vast void, the absence that cannot be filled.  
One, the faithful custodian of equivocal disappearance,  
Over dried wastelands that in their belly they shelter.

With eyes in all four corners, they watch unmoved,  
Sparks and smoke turning moments into eternity.  
And she, in the I Ching clouds, remains a silhouette,  
Cold and unchangeable to their murmur of pretensions.  
The beautiful and enigmatic tableau, laid in verses,  
Is a dazzling spectacle of shadow and masked lights.
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