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the space and time scarcethat to you I sighteda passing speckle, I ask toa flourishing glare hallowsome setting that has been in mindseeming in conciliation and tentative piecesbut then implicit care, I have for in a paira lament of one’s touch and near sensualityfervently imbued, imperatively of my soul to carry by my tongue of a chance waves of ambience, by your mouthto hear a sense of closeness in your breatheby your grace and if you... mayand the name on that calendar that nightoutside the window, looking upon the highwayNew Years coming up I think is a good sigh,to find something to show, to send,should I ask and let anticipation be deadbright dream around the post officeface close-uphad a dream about the rainfound the fence on top missing partsLetras de cancionesnailsoutsidescattered under on the floorby yourshattered windownewt weekmild windsa train intoSpringwood I want tobe thereby Tenwoodenfloorsgypsy carpetstairsold railpainted whitein the room you play a band you said you likeand gluey paintings and others and magazines cutbetween two beds no one sleepsand I fins pencils and papers of, your drawingsaway Iday greenfivemay weMay ifyou awayleaf eucalyptus groundmay if...if myself given throughout, culled from the parts solely ofmy whole being in my own thoughts in that, you’d reciprocate something in that degree of yourself to be known to me, as I had for all I sought to see of youmy acumen false, for it be only hindsight to clarify, one of the two fish, the aculeus scorpion, and as it is so, but not any more assertive but in one of a twin, by chance close to I, that I know is certainly suited to second guess – all too welland that happened and I plaintively feel of itin thought of printing a regard seethingthe lines written, a loss culminatingto one spoken to I of an aurae wade throughtranscending to a guided spirit with meit’s adagio violins, or in a dream the flutes and bassoons that soar, for which I think of you as a poet embodied whom you are as I have not seen, but I write from stomach awaken by some spirit that must have crossed yours, whatever colour it may be movingin charcoal trees with drooping deep dark greensI see myself, and vaguely the vestige, that from yourself in a hollow dwindling longing I retrievemay ifmay ifwrittenI met her in May as I thought of my life may,abound the city to waiting may,to of her way and my whateverif I break her, I maya letter to court behind my painas may have came diminishing I met her in May as I thought of my life may,collapse, I faded to her, she passed From Letras Mania