How Many Electric Cars Are Sold

Ten Days in Coma careless

wooden horses travel in

filled with sawdust in their heads

sand mixed with

sentences with no verb or subject or meaning

and inequalities

obligations are only a phone call and a couple of beers

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turned vigilante and police

A reminder taped to the wall

The recall wanting to be pasted into oblivion

forgotten

Three poets poetry

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------------- Is there a natural order of things? Excuse me Mr. Antunes

but the dead,

secrete in our heads stool

friends to spit at each other

and the only gain some are mediocre writers

invading large bookstores with shit and you

only found in libraries ...

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The terraces are not as favorable as

blades

amazed no songs are becoming

holes and bribery are becoming smaller

then someone tell me How the hell

intend to write?

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nose I was bleeding lately

while I shower,

and the trickle of blood is mixed with water,

I asked: What is it?

I get is literally poetry

body

CAMILO ANDRES