At ten I fold the white napkins
and set the table
and I hope
the voice that is not there,
the missing line
in my hand,
the hollow
that opens
like a window
and points to me
of a scream,
for me to wake up
Without blood
of the nap
innocent
when you were continent
to discover.
I double at ten
and I sow
orphan words, today.
With how much earth is the fall clothed,
some look at its ruins
others jump from thing to thing.
But there are those who turn their nightmare into a pearl
elespacioreal
How much earth
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espacioreal
A veces leo.
elespacioreal
Magician
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