Yo soy el antípoda del poeta americano
Poets in the wind
Yo soy el cadáver de la tumba
Horses in the bed
Yo soy el alabastro californiano
California is my dream
Yo soy el sueño de California
Tiffany's bay
Chocolate brew
Yo soy la Costa Oeste
West coast lips
Adiós to California, Juan
Adios to California, John
Not John Coltrane
Not John Smith
Not John Bach
John Hiatt is the name

You, saying love
You, shaman's road
You, a bird
You, a yellow sun
You, Emperor
You, lovely door
You, my Walt Whitman
You, Neal
You, Sal Paradise
You, Pancho Villa
You, La Revolución Mexicana
You, navajo
You, the border
You, the river
You, chicana
You, Mafia
You, redemption
You, poetry
You, Salvador Dalí
You, Picasso
You, stereo
You, love
You, ***
You, youth
You, America
You, América
You, español
You, english
You, country side
You, cat
You, fire
You, books
You, E. E. Cummings
You, Bukowski
You, Octavio Paz
You, Coca-Cola
You, Coke
You, India
You, Mississippi
You, jazz
You, Miles
You, Davis
You, water
You, rain
You, lagoon
You, chest
You, car
You, road
You, reading
You, lines
You, Paris
You, Baudelaire
You, Poe
You, japanese
You, katana
You, Mishima
You, gun
You, rifle
You, cam
You, can
You, can't
You, Durango
You, Arizona
You, desert
You, gonzo
You, mezcal
You, alcohol
You, drive
You, crush
You, alive
You, again

You're my solitude, my course
The majestic random
Violins in the Penumbra
Roars of Gogin
My imperial dark light
Wisdom of the Incas
I see thy empty soul
You're the soul
My sickness, disease
Fevers
And the onomastic music begun

'Cause I'm a real turkey
A wild turkey en las montañas argentinas
No coffee, nada de café
And Mark Lanegan is singing
My guitar es de madera roja
Red, red, red
Mi café es *****
Black, black, black
And your eyes
Sad, sad, sad
Until the land dies
Burn me
Bury me

I felt the cosmos of absinthe in your macerated body, Lilith
I drank your blood and your body
The gloom is our God at the Parisian night
Moan like a real woman, Lilith, moan

And the butcher's daughter came down from the Elysium fields straight to the holy spirits of my pagan dream with the morning breath of aloe. And the soft music became rivers of pure green. The red serpent spoke to Apollo and her mind of muse. Volcanoes and storms erupted in jubilation commemorating her visit. Red turned sun, voices turned sirens. Forever the face of the earth thanked a thousand ways the mystical birth of the blood.The butcher's daughter snatched my words and letters and made of sacred stone my memory who still calls her.

Blueberry lemon juice
Gangly goose
Cruel brew moon
Roam
Soft lovely Mary
Sailor Taylor
Your lord, sinking sored
Vagon Ford
Virginia east coast roast
Most test
Chest, mess
Darling Dublin
Idaho, Ioawa
Cine noir
Lullaby
Mistic bee
Free my blue at the noon
Moaning soon
And the ring mostly seen
Chase my word
Siren fog
Heaven myths
Lick a lip

You're the poet in our Infierno
Hell and sin and spiral wounds
Several books of invierno

Scarlet muse
Ganges moons
Not moon, luz azul

You're our poet in our sea
La luna que posa ante sí