De momentos…

Ruidos que crean tiempo, erosionan el silencio.                                                                                   Mi silencio que evanece y ya no es más.                                                                                                 Es murmullos, líneas muertas, eternas,                  cimientos de sombrías cuevas.

Alto -siga- paralelidad  de autopista,                                                                                                       espiral vertiginoso                                                                                                                                 ambivalencia que camina.

Estruendosa desesperación por llegar a todas y ninguna parte.                                                                    Zumbidos, tal vez palabras que intentan decir y encontrarse.                                                                                                                                                  Interludio. Carcajadas                                                                                                                                                                            Volátil suspiro de nostalgia.

Archivo personal: CometaAlVendaval,2013

Intentions-diversions-of a few alliterations

It’s day 2 in Bloggin University Intro to Poetry; today’s extra challenge was Try a bit with alliterations. So i did and this is it.

I wake to take
shot after shot after shot again
sunrise eyelids
your face my canvas
my ace space
Begin again
not quite yet
another angle i tangle forty four spots to crave
shot shot shot after shot after shot again


two hundred thirty six blowing wind possibilities
midsummer light draws
map refract
in every pore each and all
later layer
escalating in crescendo
i dive
shot after shot after shot again
trough every nanometer of skin
compelled i stare
drowning lines i navigate
tremulous movements
some claims
up and top
your face freckled space
crop spot stopped
by silent yarn i tell
‘That line between your chin was made for my hand’

rusty beard dimples
turquoise ice mirage your eyes
Allured i stand
shot after shot after shot again
and yet i find myself while swimming through a two curve ocean
of whispering waves
your face i stare and sigh inside
sight delight
my life’s landscape.