Tupacamarú. Miguel O. Menassa
Poetry School
Group Zero Director: Miguel Oscar Menassa
RESUME - virtual magazine of poetry -
Workshop Sunday at 17.00 h.
Alcalá de Henares
NUMBER 29. Sunday 17/01/2010
Coordinator: Carlos Fernández Goose
Things space. Miguel O. Menassa HAVE PURE HEAT COLD
seen in the night Skin
metaphors break the silence echoed
anonymous
and power of all the shadows.
clock I feel the cold void, raised his flag
peace and
way ... The human heat appears
drawing a big heart that beats, beating slowly
in the whistling wind.
I expect nothing.
of pure heat, I have cold.
Mónica López Bordon
Dream star. Miguel O. Menassa
UNTITLED
Look, see those hearts sad, dark
as funeral
where across the night, humming again
cries of confusion and frost
on such meat wounds.
Look, I say happy substance
to questions by those dry lips,
those mouths full of hatred, not to indulge
blue kisses
more penetrating glare,
that alcohol and poetry, walking on stones
gazelles Non-marking
.
Mira, and open your eyes and separates
silence at night sailing
between mouths shut.
hearts to walk long discouraged.
flying those mouths, silent trains
traveling through places of suffering.
That kiss those eyes,
empty basin,
of bloody footprints,
future looks,
because they still have life.
Prada Vicente Gómez
Look, see those hearts sad, dark
as funeral
where across the night, humming again
cries of confusion and frost
on such meat wounds.
Look, I say happy substance
to questions by those dry lips,
those mouths full of hatred, not to indulge
blue kisses
more penetrating glare,
that alcohol and poetry, walking on stones
gazelles Non-marking
.
Mira, and open your eyes and separates
silence at night sailing
between mouths shut.
hearts to walk long discouraged.
flying those mouths, silent trains
traveling through places of suffering.
That kiss those eyes,
empty basin,
of bloody footprints,
future looks,
because they still have life.
Prada Vicente Gómez
Lady of the magnolias. Miguel O. Menassa
sadness in LA MIRADA
night Wakes Fall
between the sheets where the bodies still warm,
due to nostalgia, throat
masked silent tears break
way the wind faded scribbling fans blue shadow.
echo is heard at the edge of the abyss of silence, lips
dance to the beat of arms precipitates
Blood opens to secret writing on the horizon
skin
memory verses time naked.
Tattoos Looking back of the prints.
Passion unleashed on the margins of the white-bellied
morning.
Soledad Caballero Castro
Miss gagged. Miguel O. Menassa MY TWIN SISTER
unknown is that half the difference
living in the unknowns,
and tumble from everyday
obstinacy with equal distance. Mano
hand on his sword and kiss
plowing and planting the barren land. Recorded
heat is on the look
a unison of horizons,
when runaway horses trotting on the passions,
raze the fate of a duality wrought iron.
When he sings the man who comes to meet the target
folds with the power of a god of light, solving mazes furrowing
bread and wine everyday
planets spinning on Monday December.
Ortigosa Carmen Martín
Women's sleep. Miguel O. Menassa HAVE PURE HEAT COLD
hear your comings and goings.
as an oversight, I feel. Miro
screen and balance
As a broker at the end of the session, let me make
.
But ... I hear it.
is like a purr in the next room
nailing heel.
She makes me feel that I can open the windows to
let the torrid
his crotch caressing my fantasy.
My hands, transparent, transparent as ice
seduce with their movement the cupboard of ideas. I tell
once dreamed without
and oceans filled
absent without noticing their absence.
Francisco Javier Rueda Diago
hear your comings and goings.
as an oversight, I feel. Miro
screen and balance
As a broker at the end of the session, let me make
.
But ... I hear it.
is like a purr in the next room
nailing heel.
She makes me feel that I can open the windows to
let the torrid
his crotch caressing my fantasy.
My hands, transparent, transparent as ice
seduce with their movement the cupboard of ideas. I tell
once dreamed without
and oceans filled
absent without noticing their absence.
Francisco Javier Rueda Diago
The two samurai. Miguel O. Menassa
EMPATHY
feel behind closed
the presence of life-like coolness
breath vacuum between the worlds inhabited
something come out of nowhere
my creature is standing on
bridge and no one else
GRITA SOLITUDE
good smell a wet dog
when you have wet eyes
my fly to the sky white horses carrying their wishes
my body becomes the lightness of
young bird in the last shadow
that uses its wings for the first time
Piotr Rzany
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