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| Christian Camacho |
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| Kamil Lemieszewski |
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| Leonardo Piloto Gonzalez |
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| Logan Swiecki-Taylor |
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| Matt Landis |
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| Michael Pichler |
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| Noah Mills |
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Showing posts with label Christian Camacho. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christian Camacho. Show all posts
September 18, 2016
A Little Leather
June 26, 2016
Neruda's Leaning
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| Christian Camacho |
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| Daniel Luna Carati |
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| Philip Fusco |
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| Ivan Gudkov |
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| Kevin Fuentes |
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| Martin Migschitz |
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| Mitchell Wick |
Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes.
There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,
its arms turning like a drowning man's.
I send out red signals across your absent eyes
that smell like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse.
You keep only darkness, my distant female,
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.
Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
to that sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes.
The birds of night peck at the first stars
that flash like my soul when I love you.
The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassels over the land.
towards your oceanic eyes.
There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,
its arms turning like a drowning man's.
I send out red signals across your absent eyes
that smell like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse.
You keep only darkness, my distant female,
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.
Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
to that sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes.
The birds of night peck at the first stars
that flash like my soul when I love you.
The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassels over the land.
Pablo Neruda
April 24, 2016
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