Semen cheaply blues.

Stone! Pass by.

I think instead

difference doesn't exist
among semen, garbage and blues.

So… I must rest, to stop in a different island
for perceive a fresh waist.

The city is a sphinx of cement and bottles.

I should forget the dirty poetry
and the burning chests.

I should be a Buddha
writing on the fractured dust
three simple lines.
I conserved haiku under silence
that stops the essence or the instant.

I made an whole rite to the olive goddess,
washed my hands,
I sanctified the room.

I put flowers on table, lit candles,
I dewed fragrance to the quilts.

I have cleaned apartment,
put rose petals my bed’s space.

I waited.

I selected romantic music for her,
Some red wine, of the oldest
and a poem on the pillow.

I believe that I invested a lot of time in her
But
since I remember
the semen it is cheap
like garbage.

Sincerely
I continue waiting the rest.

Ángel Lipizano.