Without peace or measure of time
The skin empty from flares
To argue causes to the Avernus
To waste the nap of devil
That in man’s normality
With caresses hides his name
Calling to him from the barn.
And pushes only the mind
Toward the rims of the cliff
To see if the maimed trapeze artist
Can reach something to the border
Of which subjected like a cloak
Wraps up the risk that he lifts.
Deja una respuesta