Jimena
your name was invented so do not write on walls or trees
to rhyme with others and not to me, not even yours ...
Your neck is half of the moon, my earth promised
be burning rubber on your heart to cut traffic
but I know that I am at a precipice that I will not name names ...
many square centimeters add your moles,
many key games in your mouth is lost in my body and do not know ...
I're without me, I absorb unwittingly
as verbs do not know that dwell within me and in any
underwater beasts deep sleep in a swamp of flesh that shakes
tremble trembles like the ashes of incense perfume
dead crouched who complains quietly tickling
flower names and moves you to appoint you go blind ...
And you close your eyes as if the world could do without
of these coals burning green
forever locked in a look that does not look
is just mouth-kissed landscape, unarmed fencer
and naked
hurts me more with her navel that I with my sword ...
marks / scars from a dance rehearsal in rink
are the scratches that have not given me back,
your moles are knots in the wood of a Stradivarius violin that no one touches
your neck is signed by Picasso at the height rose
and your navel is a raft offshore banks that are looking ...
is to send a telegram describe the score of a symphony
a harp while you untie the silence and make it into beating of the birds flying
blindfolded to recognize your perfume and you
deliver their feathers as an offering ...
're asleep now, I'm sure your clothes
awaits you as the apple skin waits in vain for the fruit is seen again
forks guard your hair is falling swords on the battlefield
but you're there belonging to all
you decoded the meaning of the cosmos and I
an oil slick stretching
extending to touch with the fingertips ... Jimena
the Sorcerer's Stone is your lipstick
and my shadow is your cat sleeping at the foot of your bed ... Amarte es
be convinced that there is a key contained in a flour sack and bury
hand in search and realize that just because you feel like
and no key or
locks lips just look out to nothing
ready to tangle in a senseless war and die for nothing
because we were born to kiss and be kissed
language versus language
and bats who sleep on our palates are frightened and run away anywhere
the middle of the jungle before he died ego and
see the lion who has your eyes eating a zebra having my own flesh
meat versus
"The Equivocal Woman (also Known As The teetering Woman)" by Max Ernst http://www.maxernstmuseum.lvr.de/
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