In my heart



I don’t know what I have

in my heart

I have sand

that slides


and stirs


in the light that surprises it


in the obscure loneliness

that moves me


I don’t know what there is

in my heart

there is a river

made of words and images like the memory

a channel of sorrows without harbor

a shoal of fishes

that are not swimming


I don’t know what lives

in my heart

lives a corpse

that recites poems

and deceives himself

a cheerful and haughty cadaver

that lost his way to nothingness


El Matallana

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