to the end of days

end of days poem

careless evenings
youth, dream, iron
with a fossilized joy in my face
I put on the chains
to await bitter destiny

it is freedom
far beyond art
it is an activity with no ideal
that I pretend to know

one day the hand that writes
transforms into rock
rock turns into sand
and that sand prolapses
into nothing

and a silent
gaze
is vestige
of vacuous past

in that haste
of a gamble
I fooled around with desire
noise and love,
reckless towards
the assemblage
of oblivion

 

Nihilis
tic Poe
try

observations

winter contemporary poetry

Far
again living
awake
aware
standing on cobblestone
streets
where the grey amnesia of the sky
meets the wet mirror of the street
the snow rests nested
in the tucked arms of branches
imperceptibly rocked into a dreamless winter
voices, alien and desperate
emerge and then disappear
in accidental alternation
like those winds that visit trees
and the zoom out of sight
into a hemisphere of silence
the youth, the drunk and the dying
calling out: it’s too late
adding to the noise
that slowly lulls
the entire earth
to sleep.

contemporary poetry