[7/28/08]
(4:40 P.M.)
“No sé por qué de pronto
lloro sin explicación” (Café Tacuba)
Propulsion conduit, beats that heal me
Figures borne out across limbs
In the final afternoon
Crystal boxes of clouds worn for rhyme
A second cup of coffee
And the breeze across this tableau
Electronic birds feign illumination
As the forest spoke our names, ill begotten
Fantasy currents weaken my frame
What else do I have left but to write?
A devotion inherent to our hallucination
Forgotten pages, others transformed
Into the flesh of my flesh, a flurry
You let yourself be conquered so easily
That seems to have been your misstep
Taken into confidence without protection
The page must be finished, I can’t go on
I must go on, for the sake of what
Form to inhabit, surely not an inheritance
Darío meeting an aging Verlaine in Paris
The pathetic quality of such legends
Certain words that wound us tonight
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