September 2017

Back to Issue 2

Whatever Matters

By Eduardo Escalante

At night, 
To put out the fog, you have to die slowly
While the trees talk with the stars
Luckily, I was not close to disaster

In my huge room,
all of a sudden & once again, 
fighting not to become pale,
alone repeat
my surrealist splendor,
Finding no body of truth

slowly, how irresistibly slowly

Sky & I.

Then I pull space apart and
Extract the gap between parallel lines
That will meet. I read it,
this was not the work of one night,
insufficient to listen to a sigh of Fate