I wait for you barefoot in my bed / Gocho Versolari, poet

The blank page again.
It used to be covered with birds,
and wallflowers.
Forests and skies,
looks and pigeons have dissolved
as if they had never trampled
the barriers of being.
In this morning
the desert full of cactus my arteries
and a sudden tiredness
and a deserted dawn
they grip my bones
and throw the padlock
to the sewers of death
The blank page again,
I sit still
in front of the swirls of nothing.
I hope that you arrive barefoot,
with your little nudity
able to overcome storms,
Disarm the wings of the black eagles.
I wait for you naked
for this ritual action
of dissolving the spikes of silence
It will be your lustral walk about my sex,
when you wake up my angels,
excites my demons
lights my wicks
Laying in the virtual arena,
in the white desert
you bring your bare feet to my testicles;
each caress
it is a tree that grows in a vacuum.
When your plants
have amassed my volcanoes,
the frond of poems will go through twilight
and a torrent of birds
will rush over nothing
and the world will be a canvas
with crying colors, light
and your silence




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