Mystery
I have asylum in you, daily room. You aren’t
a supernatural edge in chosen flesh. You bore through everyone
like an imminence. You intersperse your texture between your
thoughts. You make speech vulnerable. You correct the eyes.
You suspend the projected owner.
You’re a hidden prompter.
{ Rafael Cadenas, Sobre abierto, Valencia, España: Editorial Pre-Textos, 2012 }
No comments:
Post a Comment