I choose another artifice
to wrap you up in my inhabited planet...

A poem should be written
when our hands are sweating...

The black veins of the day
pulse deep inside...

Made of wounds we are
and nobody ever tried to save...

No sound opens the walls
and lies down in the room...

In the shadow of his heart,
had he hid me...

She is just a foreigner
with a surname difficult to spell...

Listen
the words don't need my perplexity anymore...

He gently disintegrated
listening to a tango...

"For apart from inquiry, apart from the...
Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed...

Save me from my sleepless dreams
when sunburned pregnant fears tear the sky...

While I confess the murders of the minutes,
my hour tries to count the grains falling...