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Hate is like a swordfish, working through water invisibly and then you see it coming with blood along its blade, but transparency disarms it.

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Blood Hate Transparent Water

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Love is a war of lightning, and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
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Love, what a long way, to arrive at a kiss.
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And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.
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Then love knew it was called love. And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way.
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And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.
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Our love was born outside the walls, in the wind, in the night, in the earth, and that’s why the clay and the flower, the mud and the roots know your name.
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There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.
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Joyful, joyful, joyful, as only dogs know how to be happy with only the autonomy of their shameless spirit.
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What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.
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Only a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
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In the house of poetry nothing endures that is not written with blood to be heard with blood.
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Tie your heart at night to mine, love, and both will defeat the darkness like twin drums beating in the forest against the heavy wall of wet leaves.
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Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know how or when.
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You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
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Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.
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My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
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