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Without a name,
it jumped out the fence.
Its tail green sparks of daytime.
Name after name we got barely to d,
To go back to coop,
And find it just the hen inside.
Where did anonymous go?
Everything in a day,
Sadly the cockerel vanished and we lost our rhyme.
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Home she gets and there,
among books she stays.
Feet over the couch,
Table for tea and on her knees the crumbs.
Out she goes and surrounded by tales she works.
Describing every fish and stone, the words.
A lily or headpiece.
A meaningful stream of sorts.
She reaches her hand,
By size or hue,
Flickering they come.
Endless, in white.
Inky and not finite.
Comet like, frail stars.
And as she turns back,
At infinite dark damned waters she stares large.
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Listen to the night,
Chirping high,
Ultrasonic engulfing buzzing b's.
Go to sleep to its lullaby,
The darkness fresher than the scorching light.
Good bye.
Dream about me,
Feet into the star stream.
Mind wandering.
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De colores únicos,
Algunos sin pareja.
Otros que danzan en corro.
Dulces y apetitosos.
Baratijas en el fondo de una caja de galletas.
Brillantes tesoros,
Cuando uno solo;
Lo repara todo.
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Flop flop flop
Up and down.
She runs in black pumps.
Auch, my toe!
Wool unbrushed coat.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Look around.
The gray invades,
It blurries the trees.
Hides perspectives.
The flowerpots flooded,
The ground barely sprinkled.
Subtle spray to the breeze,
Tickling the leaves.
Growing the day,
The sun beams dissolve its mist.
Sparkles of saturated tints,
Faded to thirst.
And so,
It drizzled.
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Your arms resting flat on ground,
Yet your hands give more.
Green lace gloves entwined gold and royal blood.
Defeated by age or landlords,
You lay strong.
The rain came and you forgot.
Half your root was drinking air.
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Brillaba el acero en los talones del bronco café.
Mientras el hermano Dedos,
Fingía pedos de deudas por cobrar.
Lidiaba el plumífero,
Un hito de barra y le rompía la hostia,
Al pobre payo importado del coronel.
Y del burdel la vigueta;
Crujidos gemía de oropel.
En el cuartel sin lavar la loza.
Al día siguiente con los soldados tirados.
Al primero que despertó,
Gárgaras de cerveza lo levantaron en resurrección.
Sin adornos,
Sobre la espuma del terregal sin hierba.
Venus de perla a mediodía.
Sonrosada por lo bajo,
Nace la primavera.
¿Demasiado tarde en mayo dónde no nieva?
Los tejocotes tienen su propia agenda.
Aquí de confeti blanco,
Allá de incógnito entre hojas,
La fruta espera.
Solo las flores de mayo,
Puntuales.
Dejan caer semillas negras.
And the command of a peculiar army,
Made up of alphabet.
For my flag is writing and my vessel lying.