afternoon, Alexander Cesario Autumn passes slowly. Fall ... the season
more serene, more calm. I'm home
are five in the afternoon,
time mate.
The sun comes through the window of filling
living fully.
Today I started the day with a certain melancholy.
I bait a mate. Sounds
Quipildor Zamba,
his music reminds me of the southern routes, snow, heavy snow.
write when I have my will.
My writing does not respond to anyone
only to me.
Readers are scarce.
Anyway I will continue writing
and I do until the last breath.
Me I move through life with great discretion,
something that very few do.
How beautiful are the ablative autumns!
sing the song is playing.
routes, snow and more snow curves.
I bait a mate.
I open an old magazine and read an interview with a writer of Rio Cuarto.
frame with a tiny black pen a paragraph.
bait me another mate.
As a cookie with sweet elder.
continue reading.
The sun has stopped heating the nest.
me another mate
bait and continue reading ...
more serene, more calm. I'm home
are five in the afternoon,
time mate.
The sun comes through the window of filling
living fully.
Today I started the day with a certain melancholy.
I bait a mate. Sounds
Quipildor Zamba,
his music reminds me of the southern routes, snow, heavy snow.
write when I have my will.
My writing does not respond to anyone
only to me.
Readers are scarce.
Anyway I will continue writing
and I do until the last breath.
Me I move through life with great discretion,
something that very few do.
How beautiful are the ablative autumns!
sing the song is playing.
routes, snow and more snow curves.
I bait a mate.
I open an old magazine and read an interview with a writer of Rio Cuarto.
frame with a tiny black pen a paragraph.
bait me another mate.
As a cookie with sweet elder.
continue reading.
The sun has stopped heating the nest.
me another mate
bait and continue reading ...
Alexander Cesario, Poem of the book: "The Smoke Stack "
Ediciones del Dock, June 2009
Ediciones del Dock, June 2009
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