FOR WORD: Volume One
Bulk of the Pampas
where they were
to the center.
To the center
I took. From
out of the pampas
You are not free to enjoy the nostalgia.
Don't look at me. The oncoming traffic
we listen: a man crawls out of an argument.
I keep saying, I saw him, I saw him.
I am not laughing with every part of myself.
You continue drinking being smart enough.
I built this house from scratch. I am not
Going to repeat myself. You tell me.
We are born a thousand times without hands.
I never answered the question. I am going
to eat this sandwich. I need an excuse.
You burn the sheets and knife the bed.
What did I leave with everyone I met tonight?
I sleep with my fingers under the pillow.
[back to Volume 1]