NOTHINGNESS AND NOISE
So good, so polite,
sleepless, disciplined,
so innocent and defeated,
satisfied
within the set of limits,
so protected and rejected,
that poetry leaves in despair,
scattered in the dust,
your calling is in vain.
Ecstasies went out from the eyes,
one by one,
nothing is visible beyond the fence,
nothing over there.
It leaves, it keeps leaving,
and you always call it back
but it doesn’t come,
not if crushed into itself,
neither in a bad mood
nor without a body…
The gardens are far away
from your house, from the noise,
cats multiplied
and beetles, too
in the dusty and scandalous neighborhood
where you
call it, you keep calling it
silent
Libros Libertad 