Letters from France, 1989
in the come-and-go of the leaves
which will not be from the tree any more and the spring,
another body swells in the erosion
of (in)tangible things. Other days
will go back to the auction of the ephemeral
and another night (to be more exact) will hold
the ecstasy your eyes hide. in the air
through the less passable paths
I read (letters from France, 1989) hardly
I had luck next to the border. an animal
harnessed to my belly was coating
all this floating land of spirits.
I won't be able to stop the words any more,
in the evasion of its strikes it left silence.
next to the upstart or immaterial
the less ludic comes to an end, the less
seeming. In the come-and-go of the leaves
neutrality seems the late winter.
now nobody writes letters
there is too much zeal deprived from words.
beyond the Boulevard Saint-Germaine
dust blindfolds faith (it was pointed out in the Diary).
definitely, everything which is memorable is ours.
© Luis Manuel Pérez Boitel
Luis Manuel Pérez Boitel writes from Cuba, and took part with this poem of the first Heptagrama poetry contest.
Arts and expression + Poetry