Poema "..."
Vivo en la cuenca fotografica de tu obra
en la maravilla octava de la nada
singular siempre ida a la deriva
de aquellas ondas de tu voz
perdida en tu aullido
en tu encanto y enojo
corazón rebelde,
lo imposible es sueño de tu realidad
pura y verdadera bondad.
Briol.
Febrero 17, 2012.
mayo 25th, 2013 in
Sobre el papel.
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