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Sunday 27 April 2014

Pablo Saborio

Instinct
 
Because as an animal
I have fantasies
 
of god wrapped between
the lips of one giant vagina
 
the sweet dawn
dripping from my cock
 
naturally as
an animal I
dream of strange violence
 
of penetrating
oblivion
with pistols and cacti 
 
spurting so much blood
breathless in the night
 
to bite
the conch of the world
all swollen with despair. 
 
--
 
NOWHERE else has there been a sharper
knife plunged into the heart
of things.
Only describing its pain
can flower like an open sound.
You are aching below a fountain
not understanding the symbols
of its raining lore.
Only a few more years
to dismantle the ailing tree.
Nowhere else has there been
more space to pretend a birth.
I have hunted the tears,
those machines whose flesh
is rotten without the reason.
Only a clod of questions
can 
the wingless earth. 
 

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