Guitars

Solemn and blazing like a great empty ode

I bivouac where the dogs are getting sheared

my father waits for me there

The bad guys have crowned us with raw matter

from the height of their black brow twenty-eight saints warned me

the kings of Notre-Dame are the same age as my life

But I'm lost Soul let's run away

the cold like love damns me to hell spellbinds me

immense mercy sleeps beneath the wool

don't touch the heart that rakes its wild embers

Keep waiting keep waiting like I'm waiting for my father

My mother told me: He lives under the springtime

my mother told me As I always say knock wood

I carry a green apple tree in my heart

I cut my gums with the gravel of his name

Tuesday will start with sea water

misery with my oaths

the gypsies will come to stitch up my vertebrae

In Spain death is burning the saffron.

Copyright World Poetry, Incorporated May/Jun 2006
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