The Fire Creeps Closer

Angels dress the naked torso;
Without forgetting the songs of the dressed,
Shouting in the near distance.

Sand makes beggars of feet,
Everything, everyone is forgotten in wet crunches;
Death never comes when called.

The night has a cold breath
The lovely moon peers down,
Upon what I cannot see.

My love has emerged from the waves,
Now holding hands with goddesses of days:
Beauty is cold.

The promised pilgrimage, ended upon the shield
Protecting the shivering words from frosted arrows
Where is mercy?

Mediterrenean nights drunk upon Spanish words,
I touch a face with the plea of the limbless;
This is my time.

The rain sighs in my breath
As I sing my elegies;
Why do I not bleed?

Dancing upon the murky clouds is my calling.
But only the carved valley knows my condition.
Cross my arms on my chest and leave me to the moon
...The fire creeps closer.