(c)copyright december 1, 2016, by Carlos Mijares Poyer. Caracas, Venezuela. 4:55pm
THE PRESENT SUBLIME
So many unsung stereotypes
as many as keys on a typewriter,
now the keyboard and chess piece of life
like no other
the smile of my mother
my father's eyes
and the tarot cards, the mysteries of my sister's
sigh...
loud a siren's bell, the fire in the inner ear
like falling rosary beads in a white wet sink
forever speechless.
I reckon to applaud this slow sense of self
as common as the clown's conversation
behind the red suede curtains
now on fire... now on fire...
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