Forcing
verse like a nightmare.
water and slow movement.
"As a child I imagined this scene tour of huge words that named the various elements of the geography and of its most recognizable mountain, river, cloud, quarry source, the tasuguera, the Bujo, pine valdelez .. .
This morning I started writing some verses on small pieces of cardboard imagining a kind of moving poem that was generated from the movement. I picked up the pieces and I have a thin rope hanging from the branches of a small tree that grows beside a road. It was cold and the wind whipping their bare branches.
do not know the name of the tree, not the kind to which it belongs, this somehow excites me. It makes me smile. "
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