A CFM to exist and prove that love is stronger than hate On 11 September two thousand and one
while the Twin Towers fell,
I was making love.
The eleventh of September two thousand and one
at three in the afternoon, when Spain,
a plane crashed in New York,
and I enjoyed making love. The doomsayers talking
the end of a civilization
but I did love.
The predicted apocalyptic holy war, but I fornicate
to death, if we must die, let it be exalted.
The eleventh of September two thousand and one
a second plane crashed on New York
at the right time when I fell on you like a body
launched from space
I fell on your ass
swimming in your juices
landing in your gut and viscera
whatsoever.
And as another plane flying over Washington
sinister purposes I made love
land-forty pm, when Spain-
devoured your breasts your pubis your flanks
houri life has given me
without killing anyone. We loved each other passionately tender
in Eden of bed
-territory without flags, without borders, without limits
, geography of dreams,
stolen everyday island, maps
patriarchy and inheritance rights, without listening
radio or the television without hearing
neighbors listening to our woes only
but had forgotten to turn off the phone
that Appendix brace.
rang someone told me New York has begun falling
holy war and I, your drooling
internal juices not made the slightest attention, I disconnected the phone
thousands dead, I could hear,
but I was very much alive, very alive
fornicating.
"What happened?" Ask
the breasts hanging like swollen udder.
"I think New York is sinking," I muttered,
eating up your right lobe.
"It's a pity," answered
sucked while I sucked my lower lip. And
lit the TV or radio the other day,
so we have nothing to tell our descendants
when they ask us why we were
by the September 11, two thousand one,
when the Twin Towers collapsed on New York.
while the Twin Towers fell,
I was making love.
The eleventh of September two thousand and one
at three in the afternoon, when Spain,
a plane crashed in New York,
and I enjoyed making love. The doomsayers talking
the end of a civilization
but I did love.
The predicted apocalyptic holy war, but I fornicate
to death, if we must die, let it be exalted.
The eleventh of September two thousand and one
a second plane crashed on New York
at the right time when I fell on you like a body
launched from space
I fell on your ass
swimming in your juices
landing in your gut and viscera
whatsoever.
And as another plane flying over Washington
sinister purposes I made love
land-forty pm, when Spain-
devoured your breasts your pubis your flanks
houri life has given me
without killing anyone. We loved each other passionately tender
in Eden of bed
-territory without flags, without borders, without limits
, geography of dreams,
stolen everyday island, maps
patriarchy and inheritance rights, without listening
radio or the television without hearing
neighbors listening to our woes only
but had forgotten to turn off the phone
that Appendix brace.
rang someone told me New York has begun falling
holy war and I, your drooling
internal juices not made the slightest attention, I disconnected the phone
thousands dead, I could hear,
but I was very much alive, very alive
fornicating.
"What happened?" Ask
the breasts hanging like swollen udder.
"I think New York is sinking," I muttered,
eating up your right lobe.
"It's a pity," answered
sucked while I sucked my lower lip. And
lit the TV or radio the other day,
so we have nothing to tell our descendants
when they ask us why we were
by the September 11, two thousand one,
when the Twin Towers collapsed on New York.
0 comments:
Post a Comment