My name is mud but call me
Miguel (Miguel Hernández)
My name is Miguel mud but call me. Barro
is my profession and my destiny
Staining with his tongue as lame.
instrument'm a sad way. I am a sweet tongue
infamous foot
to idolize deployed.
As a nocturnal water ox and fallow
creature that wants to be idolized,
gores your shoes and the surrounding area and made
carpet and made kissing your heel
insult kiss me and planting flowers.
relics of my kind I put your heel
mordant your stride, and always
your stride for me
advance your standing impassively
despise all love to lift your foot.
wetter than the face of my tears, when the glass wool
ice bullet
as winter closes your window under your feet
a hawk wing, wing
and heart stained ground.
Under your feet a bunch of humble honey melted
kicking and alone, a despised
fallen heart-shaped figure algae and wave. Barro
vested in me in vain poppy
clay in vain I pour my arms, mud
bite you in vain heels, giving a badly wounded
flapping and writhing toads
hearts.
hardly step on me, if I put
the image of your mark on top,
falls apart and breaks the frame of syrup
bipartite who arms me
mouth raw and pure apart
asking the press
you always ski free and wild hare.
His taciturn cream is clustering,
sobs shake his grove
cerebral wool under your step.
and raisins, and the wax is burning
winter before sunset,
martyr, jewelry and grass of the wheel. Tired
undergoing circulating
daggers and claw truck, mud fears
delivery of corrosive
animal skin and nail vindictive.
growing fears that the mud in a moment,
afraid to grow up and cover and soft, tender and jealously
rush your ankle, my torment,
fears that flood the spikenard of your leg
and grow more and then move to your front.
hurricane fears that lifting the soft
winter territory and explode and shine and fall on your blood rained hard
tender.
offended fears an assault
foam and a loving fear cataclysm.
Before the drought to consume
the mud has of becoming the same thing.
Google Image
© Freyja
