Restless little fingers are the sea. Crashing fingertips. Little skin bells. Hard slaps of salt. The wind is clapping in the leaves and in the branches: the caress of his…

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The teeth of the clock

With every gesture I draw the threads of a screw and the screw rotates, and I live in its hypnotic metal and I walk along its thread as if I…

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The teeth of the clock

We will never be, defeated by time. There is melancholy in our seconds. Yes. Yesterday we got our mirrors dirty and we washed them down with the same filth, and…

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The teeth of the clock

Under the skirts of the earth Below Time In the closeness of nerves the rhythm can be sensed and the rhyme is sought through convection in the saliva through conduction…

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The teeth of the clock