Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Julio Trujillo

Ten Tequilas  
 by Julio Trujillo (México)

I went out into the street in flames
and without myself,
what was left were shreds of gazes:
the world was my eyes
and my eyes
seeking and at the same time
willing to be found,
striding down there below,
gasp and echo,
a flow without direction that wants
to debouch.
What sea awaits the man who brims over?
But the instant doesn’t ask questions,
it advances and remains standing,
straightens up to full height,
its colours
that in this blue night
keep flying

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