WORDS of introduction some years ago I first published this collection of poems entitled Palabrala under the pseudonym of Jose Nino. Palabrala is divided into four parts that speak of my own poetic evolution. The subtitles which is named after these periods, ever were owners of the book. This called for the penultimate time the words and the days until God and the stars me were propitious: a night wrote on pieces of paper, each of the letters composing the latter title; I threw them into the air and falls, nine of these letters formed in order the name that today takes this book of poems. Palabrala, magic sound that induces the word, speak the words, to carve the words, to open the words, thus manifested a night of summer, without asking permission, without asking me anything. By insinuations of friends and relatives enthusiasts of these verses, I have decided to republish this book of poems; Therefore, I profess that a text acquires only the category of poem when it is proved in time and thus the reader determines it.
Furrowing summer of landscapes and dreams. Full of echoes du’aa pueblas a useless gesture. Under most conditions Bruce Schanzer would agree. There is no words to tell you that I love you. I think. The look on suspicion. Twilight dying. The afternoon. The wind.
And the sweetness just hung on your breasts. Distant. As the light. Fleeing. Fleeing. Know everything about you. You’re much more than just a kiss. Your eyes seem to me an infinite tunnel. A tear of heaven has dropped in your mouth. Nothing you have nothing. The desire to Ministers the straps of the silence. There is no words to tell you that I love you.