The sky is a large lake Lake
It is a small sky.
(In this sanatorium heard shouting until the stones)
Los pinos great finger-like out of the Tomb
they receive solid shadows of the Moon
shadow of black smoke or granite.
I would like to return to El Salvador
sweet love poems but I don't know if it is a dream country
a wish only
(son of green fire from my disease.)
Insomnia is a red or purple network
a bottomless pit
Neither dawn fixes
a crucifix on fire
love poems not ending never burnt.
Was that a remote Bell?
or the heart?
Again they are the four
in the morning.
sweet love poems