Saturday, December 11, 2010

Small Quarter Pipe Plans

THE POEM OF THE BOOK "SCAPULAR"



ESCAPULARIO
I

Eighteen hundred and fifty-odd ...
Francisco kneeling
gargoyle on the tower in the church of the Assumption pure clay
The child hears the cries of the people
hulls her father's hearse

A wake with cakes steaming kitchen murmuring
The successors to the throne on
be the bastard, preferred, or the wonderful child that
A urine burned his thigh

That night, the wet spot resembles the map
Francisco dreams of Napoleon's wars
A confessional
masturbation is good to know Father cure is the other parent, alive.

son who inherits his scapular denied
Color lion, pig skin velvet wrap
a golden
nothing to hide the secret name Posted: fate of father, son curse

Already
sword gains Raping a girl Guar
Not knowing what was fierce jaguar
Scratching his chest, stealing her secret. Hole

lost without his cross
Carried in a current of Orphan
passions, nameless, stripped of origin
wander Francisco as mean

Generalito






II

She tears her eyes tiger hangs between the nipples
leather
bastard wearing the scapular
a mule transporting the sacrament

mad woman being humiliated India
sang as she washed on the shore
When sank generalito Drilling
fingers semen hymen angry babble Guarán

Angel lullabies
The mad tiger spider woman will give birth to a son
transmitter
the letter of the name, and the human lineage.

an orange peel garnish your hair
Paint your lips with black seeds on the death
says laughing
And bleeds at birth

stem Child grows and dies lonely blue
Leaving a legacy his agalma
The letter, the name and the smell
pig skin wet with tears. Angel dead

born a daimon who die
The letter is enclosed in
Until nothing will stop another general
Century waiting and hatred erupts.




III

Nineteen seventy-something ...
Buenos Aires zero density
When Juan, red flag, wandering in the town
Hung left his gun
cyanide tablet in the collar

Century of Pigskin smell when The scapular color
traspira papyrus lion
With the secret name unopened
With senses hole waiting

War, in Asuncion on the River Amazon
hot and tense thigh
Hoping that your fingers sink generalito
To steal your soul

Armada fight, revolution: not to die for Perón
The moment of truth to the neck
not die before knowing its name
pill under the tongue before the torturer

Memorial Bell Tower, the Indian angel, the blue boy floating bodies

Barter Above all hovers the ghost
Promising secret name
waiting
Juan corpse thrown into the river fleet
Swollen hands and feet burned
Thick skin, papyrus-scented pork
And a letter embroidered in gold with the name of a woman. ***




Enrique Acuña.
September 2010 .-
( READ IN THE NIGHT AERA, Wednesdays OF SADE)

0 comments:

Post a Comment