MY VERSES WITHOUT YOUR POEM NO LINES
" My eyes, your eyes are not eyes ..."
"Image your fingerprint "(1934), M. Hernández
My verses, no phone lines are not lines
because you made them transferable
love the fire in your blood, droll
between bread and caress.
Burning
sidewalks streets of Madrid to know your embryos
and surfaced the word of your hands which
bright lemon juice.
Refine
hum of a poem through the bar and the padlock
for other sound
eyes would open the gate to other heels.
Naked carnations and arms, there was no water
blossoms that could turn off the stove lit
light in trenches thirty-six. Butterfly
stretcher scaffold Hawthorn
that spreads the beauty of your eyes open
death:
your intelligence, unquenchable
tea turns fire at white chandeliers,
in the thousand nine ... niche of your goodbye.
This is the poem that Laura Gómez Recas read in the Tower of Homage of Arenas de San Pedro, on Sunday, October 31. Concert that the group "Poetry in Gredos" held in honor of Miguel Hernandez.
Palafox
Noelia Photo 
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