Chrysanþemum

I´ve been plantting ðis corner
of sycophant zeals as flowers
i þink ðey yours
i let you dashing out stroll here
in ðe wharf of ðis garden
wiþ my sharppened phalanges
i whirl every crimson stem
schemer of ðe best harvest
wiþ savor of barren mouþ.
Nobody loves me (yet)
but i sent you a precious ornament
before time
and i said "ðis flowers are not to be timed
ðey came from my heart"
languished you clamed:
"noþing but blood
comes from a heart"
ðis is a sudden attack´s continent
wiþ my bare mouþ i whisttled
ðe brims of ðese dells.

Come back, come back to me, come to me, don´t boðer, do not boðer me.

Just in ðe clamor, belch:
"noþing but blood
comes from a heart"
now collapsed in
whisttled dells
as before meet me
just sew again ðe leaves
i´m a scanvenger dummy
used to remain you
in carnage leftovers.

Come back, come back to me, come to me, don´t boðer, do not boðer me.

Aztlán, febrero de 2005.


D.A.dá.