Signature Leather

 

You listen to the sound
of pencil on
        leather—
                Does it hurt
your eyes,
 to see its silver black, trekking
  a shimmery gloss
   on leather, young leather—
                            one
                    sheeny one.
                                        Love
   is a market bowl
   of noise,
                        swelling
                        t’ shit But is there
                            not joy

                            in bad ardors
                            also,
                leather excretes
                unsavory fumes
                        to a pencil’s scratchings

But look at what they make:
watch pain’s metal knock
                        sweet droplets on
                        leche flan. Well is not
                                                                man
                                                                a beast
                            upon a princess—
                                                isn't he also goddam prince?

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 1999, 2004 Vicente-Ignacio Soria de Veyra. All rights reserved. Readers are welcome to view, save, file and print out single copies of this webpage for their personal use. No reproduction, display, performance, multiple copy, transmission, or distribution of the work herein, or any excerpt, adaptation, abridgment or translation of same, may be made without written permission from the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this work will be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

CLOSE WINDOW