Wood, Wings ...
ALAS / WOOD
cracking sound waves at the stern of the stern. The barge undulates afternoon ... and the river, miraculously neat, lame old wood and hardware that imprisons.
At this hour the stillness crushes things and beings. The old color displays coast, worn by the incessant sudestada, last fall, moved from pure whim.
The boat lives, sighs, chatters. Old wood, injured, decayed, pops. Above the wings, yellow sails down, waiting to be collected.
(Alas and wood. Alas / candles, sky stuff, free, oxygenated, cool, ventilated area. Wood crib earthly plant order, anointed in humus, friendly, family)
Today dove into the water, sails drenched and maternal keel. Furrowed gray river channels which, miles to the east, opens onto the sea in a geographical confusion of widths.
(Alas the wind, rigging wings, wings / sails the high seas. Wooden water, nautical tree, wood / shell sea)
was the last outing. Rest your head in the corner now that the banks formed perhaps for holding them. At the bottom of the keel, rudder and hold memories drown aftershocks.
(Wings / air wing / salt, wood / clay, wood / vital) Casca
waves without repeating their sounds. The barge gently collapses in the afternoon and, docile, yet rocking, is delivered to the coastal landscape full of forgotten junk sailing.
(Alas sad, rotten wood ... Wings / timber / barge ...)
BENEDETTI25 ESTELA MARIA MAY, AUGUST 2005
Technique: Xilofagografía