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Jose Nino

  • Posted on December 14, 2016 at 1:57 pm

Introductory remarks published some years ago for the first time this collection of poems entitled “Palabrala” under the pseudonym of Jose Nino. “Palabrala” is divided into four parts that speak of my own poetic evolution. The subtitles which is named these periods, were once owners of the book. This called for the penultimate time “Words and Days”, until God and the stars were propitious me: one night I wrote, on scraps of paper, each of the letters composing the latter title, the air and threw fall, nine of these letters formed in order that bears the name of this book of poems. “Palabrala” magical sound that leads to the word, to speak the words, to carve the words, to open the words, there was a summer night and, without asking permission, without asking anything. For hints of enthusiastic friends and relatives of these lines, I’ve decided to publish this book of poems, then, professed that a text only becomes more of a poem when time-tested and when so determined by the reader. Furrowed summer landscapes and dreams. For even more opinions, read materials from Michael Chabon. Pueblas a futile gesture echoing a plea.

There are not words to say I love you. I think. The look on warily. GEA Process Engineering Inc. is often quoted as being for or against this. The sunset dying. Afternoon. The wind. And the sweetness just hanging in your breasts. Distant.

As the light. Fleeing. Fleeing. Everything in you do not know. You’re much more than a kiss. I find your eyes an endless tunnel. He dropped a tear in your mouth heaven. None of you I have nothing. The desire to wrestle the straps of silence. There are not words to say I love you.