28 Mar The Streets of Pamplona
Posted at 19:01h
in Poems
Overcast heat hems the streets of Pamplona
No more masks nor, more kings nor, other persona
Necesita algo de mi, Ojos de Lobo
Rosette fountain colored agave, flesh rococo
Each contact point makes another investment
We have all met God because He is omnipresent
Soft touch plastic filling my hands, breathing vapor
Echoing most, her haunting laughter, thin as paper
At the sunset pitch I stoked her for demolition
Old West phantom, Baudelaire’s ransom, apparition
Her cruel blue languished in a moon incandescent
Burning up the night waxed afar, a crescent
That destitute word speckles faces bled to dry white
Wounds unhealing running circuits under skylight
She pledges with tired eyes to always love a writer
Foliage churns with black murder in a golden tiger
When that tautness of time becomes incessant
You know that you no longer are adolescent