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rains in Alcobendas Poems for 8 days 7 September


night You do the cotton and Lycra.

Boquita
Nestea ice cream and glass of wine.
erect nipple and detailed. Kisses like daggers

and hair unbound.

I like to think that the night passes
,
in the black of your panties
and Imagine, little flannel

your thongs.



From the eyes of Ephesus

fresh honey, nuts and wheat,
mulsum Strabo and feet. Artemis
columns and Héclarito

putting time in the water. Earth sinks


on Mount Pion.

The waves are sores in the sand of the Aegean. In your eyelids

give wings to the river and you put Cayster
rowing at sea.

The Rome pilum kneels in the yellow vented

your hair down. The STOL

turns your white body tight.







Ms. Gonzalez Ms. Gonzalez

, blonde
sun skinny orgasm
mouth and shirt
Nivea.

holy dark pants, silver bracelets
moon
patent lips, eyes
caffeine.

Ms. Gonzalez, tits
daring, skin
Yinzhen,
office girl.





For you For you my Calvin Klein

would always be the drawer. And my socks

would still hung, the hanger
of Springfield.


For you my shirt,
not leave the cabinet.
And my pants, my
never abrocharían
waist.


my Vans For you, would not step

street and soles, should walk
no tar.


For you go to nudism,
for your hands.





Atlantic Your eyes in the sky Your eyes
night
round temperate
star
startled sea. Rotated
clouds, light

milked and organized moon. Your eyes


fascicles of the universe,
desire of my eyes,
of cat meows. Boleros
am,
pockets of my eyes,
dream dinner. Your eyes


galleons looks,
as cannons that shoot

roses hazelnut and Saturday
savanna
played in your breasts.







Your eyes are the Atlantic

The Atlantic gives a stab
Tagus
the Marquis de Pombal. Traffic
on ships and ports and places
highway
the caravels of Columbus. Monta

cane and palm trees and a leader
poet José Martí.

It gives a poor island land,
the brave Lancelot. And

molded western columns Mare Nostrum.
In the Treaty of Tordesillas, blinded for the allocation

your eyes.






Joaquín Sabina girl in Dublin,


A blouse
bespoken of Samuel Beckett and a label on the thong,
Guinness Black and sunset.

Apetece
close to James Joyce and undress your bra
Wrinkled nipples. That the needle

Of your black heels,
Encourage Grafton Street, pimp
of hips. And your jeans
cool.





And You, the absolute of all

Pine, timple and salt
cardón, Pedro Guerra,
his guitar, the wild olive,
feet of beach, sun
skin.

Captain Juan Rejon
to the rhythm of sword, the God Acorán

is challenging ravines,
in Guiniguada.

million broth, gourd
gofio
onrushing wave. And you

all attitude.