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Evangelism

Sometimes I fall as democracy in the hands of politicians and I am the foreign
not want to be in any country (as if that were possible)

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Corner view:room

This photo was taken in a stormy night from my room window. I like to see outside and find out who is awake, who is looking out, or guess the story of that room in which the light is swicht on. Guess the story behind that light, the room with light.

Argazkia nire gelako lehiotik ateratakoa da, ekaitz gau batean. Kanpora begiratzea gustoko dut, ea nor dagoen aurkitzeko, ea nor dagoen iratzarrita, edo zer gordetzen duen argitutako gelak, zer istorio eskutatzen den lehio argituan.

Esta foto fue tomada desde la ventana de mi habitación en una noche de tormenta. Me gusta mirar fuera buscando quién está despierto, mirando también hacia fuera, imaginando qué se esconde detrás de la luz del fondo. Que historia se esconde en la habitación iluminada del otro lado del patio.

More rooms....with Francesca

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descends from afar distress speaking of forgotten books, like moths the destination which were sold on the third night, they fall under the false light the laurels of help, the womb is dry and I understand that taxis do not come when you say yes tomorrow, we will remove the dead tree.

A portion of taxes on the calendar sadness leaves us embarrassed and naked in the city of decency, we have added more last-week before when we were around absurd and ash-breathing snake in search of water, smiling bar bars if you have the full portfolio and we can not afford everything we need. We at gunpoint gaining what we want.

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BY

Converts cold hand to hand, a life in separations.

Perfume reserved seating position that is never on an equal loss. Converts

face my pain in a beautiful and apparently I have to hide the left-over manure.

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to

day sometimes forgive the knives that are stuck looking

pain and a pale hand will grab the water and the air is a fuel that pushes the cry hoarse and slight to be alive still believing in the fighting, in which after

continue to believe as those infected dust survivors who choose the trench before bed and

dark butterflies defend the night that death was the next step

understand that life is short to be tied.

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after I came to the country that stole something herself

I come from the country who stole itself
plans autumn in my memory as a poacher who was lost and forgot what
fled the calendar is a plant with cigarettes, a lot of land that
fit any hole the leftovers of yesterday resting in a pharmacy as this spring
stops you and me part, god gather to salute in the sewers intimate
by tachycardia, which together paid in the heart of the old
which subtracted too early to discuss our good pm
and dangerous tombs both expected.

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Different wedding

A friend married some days ago. And as she didn´t want a big wedding, she promised us a country lunch after their honey moon. So she did.

Lagun bat ezkondu egin zan orain egun batzuk. Ez zuen ezkontza haundi horietako bat nahi, beraz mendi bazkaria promes egin zigun ezkontz bidaiatik bueltatzean.

Una amiga se casó a few days ago and not wanting one of those great wedding, we promised a picnic on return from honeymoon.

There We Had, a roof to cover from rain, a great fire to cook and warm, and lot of space to run and play.

Sua eta bat Txabola jolasteko ugari leku.

Fire for cooking and warmth, a roof when it rained and a lot of room to run.

Fresh

Vergie and fresh beer.

Garagardo freskua eta letxuga hartu Berriak

fresh beer freshly cut lettuce.

And a hot coffee for the end. Eta

kafetxo Beroea amaitzeko.

and hot coffee to finish.

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something that is not too
something I do not look
as if he knew anything but after that irritates
as nettle to burn as the sleepless nights as the flag
Anarchist flags do not want to self-destruct
not say something like wait for me
some oil and passenger
write something as if
lsd in your eyes open why why tomorrow I will also be
into the abyss
something Parez a story
a kiss from mother cell
bleach does not remove that dirt

roles saute something something living and not me sum my betrayals
something breaks the camel

and flies fill the glass
dinner
something like mountains
something like tonight if possible

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the tomb was the semen that love spread on the metal bars of the road to nowhere
where the children leave to be taken
and lemon is the hand that gives the right
life playing by the abandonment of
intensive care rooms in which to look out the window is to miss the target again

again

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of Justice

Gaps pray justice of the noun, verb ragged from the abyss by the beauty sighs a breast phantom infinite trees by chewing the death on the last night we can stand still talking tomorrow.

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drawers are filled books that were uninhabited when it was dirty coat tomorrow, his stories remind defeated characters, the truths that ended in an end because we were dying faster, autumn landscapes and hunger. succumbing feel me in the betrayal of the memory.

in another house I do not know how many I's suit before or many lost. The world looks the same.

When I see the roads as separate worlds, such as stamps sent farewell, says nostalgia 'm not the same as if it where not come off the road.

I released the wire that gave unity to the structure, everything is in itself a nonsense stud, grazed me, I breathe in gangrene of the tuber while as life continues.

I can not write a word.

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The soles have been much more than my eyes on those walks in returning it back was the only possible and the house was dirtier and not doing so was death, just remember that tube life pulling me through tree-lined banks and makes my thinking on AIDS succumb to ill reality as if the nightmare was awake. The memory of a game of checkers gray risking their sanity against themselves, where a party was losing out anywhere in memory and the senses was written well tomorrow's pain that inevitably bloody winter would be created as allegation, and that damn flash again without wanting to receive distress brick. Under these skies keep live birds was an illusion that you know what's coming eggs had been eaten themselves and the remains would dig his own grave.

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paper considers three nights of rain over Sandra

I leave the paper without the self
"I " implies both that prevents me write without you,
" I mean is the scenario that has said for years could write
a key being held at the door that does not fit
a voice that comes to me or get me a
me who invents a us leaves us in a bad beggar
truth of the dead tired of talking of them as if they know something from nothing
am not after tomorrow and today is a lie
suffered much "to get the outlines
that will never find us?

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Sandra walks with the wind that speaks of the nights when I write a poem that no one survives

Sandra walks with his water account the cages to die before their passage

catch passing fierce, his step

Sandra smiles deep into the abyss with a bottle full of love and wine

and their god is not of this earth

so dirty bullets killing by Sandra

runs, still, shouts, sings, weaves in watercolor desert dream, Sandra

not corrode iron, Sandra does not want to cry and escape the city, always escapes. Sandra is

sand, impossible day defeating death

of mad quixotic and suicidal strengths,
of the song that will be when everything dies.

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served wine and bitterness passed from man to man, because it was made with grapes from the sweat of slaves and the iron fell on them as the pain opens up to strangle her life.

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Today I will write nothing

Today I will write nothing, you know how much I love the ocean ships do not return, and my body is willing to carry their agony of living a dream many hours wrong. Questions have come from afar to die on my lips and in the vent to the hours that go fight against the hours have fallen hands of another world to get off the ground or lose me.

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keep my eyes open only to know the exact moment the sadness destroy me.

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Hopelessness is the movement that did not believe the stories are true or made to sleep we become monsters.

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released his grip girl and the bird does not see the undertaker
caba land and sugar cubes are served in bars
not arrive in time the vaccine and the flowers look to God
break and dishes it up with the shit

belies the wall

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be urbanized

love the night
exalt his empty decks on which the rain passes through no fault as in places it does not hurt to look
loss of life along the sea to drown you, not the worst