LA COPA NEGRA
La noche es una copa de mal. Una silla aguda del guardia la atraviesa, cual vibrante alfiler. Oye, tu, mujerzuela ¿Como, si ya te fuiste, la onda aun es negra y me hace aun arder?
La tierra tiene bordes de féretro en la sombra. Oye tu mujerzuela. No vayas a volver .
Mi carne nada, nada en la copa de sombra que me hace aun doler; Mi carne nada en ella; como de un pantanoso corazon de mujer.
Ascua astral... he sentido, secos roses de araya sobre mi loto diáfano .
Ah mujer! por ti existe, la carne hecha de instinto . Ah mujer!
¡Oh negro cáliz! Aun cuando ya te fuiste me ahogo con el polvo; y piafan en mis carnes mas ganas de beber.
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