Courtesy of www.youbuytheticket.com

I'd swallow a dove for lack of shit
I'd swallow love like an endless hit,
dropped on the pavement with a chipped tooth,
maybe born again, maybe not
as fingers that massage the masses:
déjame estar, un momento, en las sombras,
eschew mystery for these paths unfurled
into my heart, like an oar beating, propelling
into dead-end dreams that end too soon:
of columns of war, arranged in numbers,
my dreams are dissolute, but they are dreams
ensnared in a vista between seams;
now I begin to find truths in books,
now rivers give out as they reach the sea.

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