How To Connect A Ceiling Fan To Its Regulator

PERSONAL ANTHOLOGY APOCUNA



ZERO zero Seeking
In verses
kill

In the letters of the soul in debt.

But the steps are zeros and zeros
transplanted hosts

are worth all the weeping bitter. A zero



two or maybe three zeros on the shoulders

The
fronts
In small feet are strong, very strong.

So we
Sustained zeros on the breath of a bullet in a dark mass

What is covered in the vacuum of a table.

A zero in a home abandoned
A zero closing
life or one who sees the open window and the moon
looming
A lament about being old
so dry
Men say: Let him

already gone.

ECHO WHEN THE WORLD TO MOURN


If a man wrote the world
Mares, Evening, Freedom!
The pity everything
smile and no more human to write at night No more human
who claims Eternity!

If a man wrote to another
plains, Cordilleras, Amar!
Clay never had anything fearful in anxiety

Desperate embrace the echo of crying
Brother!, Brother!, Do not speak
They enjoy Kill!

And the day came when the patients were captured by the death
The dried blood on the sand mass
Something that was exposed in the sky all was no longer
.

world arms loaded into memory skeletons chased

And I find it as written by the man
recalled their songs, their lyrics, their numbers, their fire, their existence
Be sadder than on other nights
He lay, laid down to mourn.


I KNOW YOU ARE ASLEEP


I feel my dead
JOSE WATANABE


've heard the candor of the second, third
The child who stays and says goodbye.
already reached the room with her rosary
the fifth with his condolences
the sixth with his prayer for the old
The seventh and fades too pale and his eighth
measured length / width

Smile because it will eat today because he works for death.

already brought the songs of the sea
The mountain music
The candle of the sky and the face of the earth.

And have united to dismiss

To ask Where anger? I call

Those men loaded the tree that has fallen
And it hurts because it leaves shade leaves
Because words mean
Learned / forgotten
be remembered as the cements covering his grave.


I love the old In its shadow still fragile paint
In
In another spirit
Do not tremble in the night Do not know

That dream did not say goodbye.