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Desiring the feminine for life:
abyss between the words and the gash
of another creation – not knowing
how to make meaning.
The experience of this window is an echo on the border
of logic, horizon which defines and resists
the impulse, the pulse of the asphalt
which aspires to one single desire.
When I recall my symbolic breaks,
I am on the margin of the letter, deserting
all those who believe having found the complete
way: love is the only fall you come back
from, I say.
Thus my longing, mouth thirsty for water,
eating the names I lack and yet, even so
teach me: go live your life.