In the saliva
In the paper
in the eclipse
In all the lines
in all the colors
in all the clay jars
in my breast
outside inside-
in the inkwell- in the difficulties of writing
in the wonder of my eyes- in the ultimate
limits of the sun (the sun has no limits) in
everything. To speak it all is imbecile, magnificent
DIEGO in my urine- DIEGO in my mouth- in my
heart. In my madness. in my dream- in
the blotter- in the point of my pen-
in the pencils- in the landscapes- in the
food- in the metal- in imagination
in the sickness- in the glass cupboards-
in his lapels- in his eyes- DIEGO-
in his mouth- DIEGO- in his lies.
I feel I've had more than the usual amount of conversations concerning Frida Kahlo recently. Thank you for this.
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