In the days of the First People’s Republic, there were two friends. I say friends – but actually, they lived a long way apart. One lived in the great city of Bilbao, by the banks of the Mississippi. A proletarian under the rule of the Republic, he laboure...
If yesterday’s failures were relived again, I could go back to make each a success, Then there would be something to live for each day, When I’ve awakened the answer that slept with my pain. Autistic thoughts stole the past that it tore, And going back...
You walk by Swallowing the sky, Where it’s not at And neither am I. Lick my wounds Where overhang, The bloodless battle Whose victory rang. My thoughts I’ve squandered Where no one hears, Pain is so silent - Grant me your tears. Laugh at me Whilst I...
There was a meadow, where I would chase through, Where emerald blades, welcome, fulfilled Butterflies and I, who’d always pursue; Driven by the thoughts, not yet stilled. The springs of my needs abound so lonely; From your short breaths, I’d felt a voic...
