The heat is on 10 miles an hour Planet runs as a clock
Passing from hand to hand, taken aback.
I share its instruments to hear the compass points
In the circle that encloses us
and our workings
That we have chosen to do this:
Prose, Poetry, Journals
Letters, Pictures. Hand Written
Generating a Space-Scape for Humans.
But, are we Humans?
In my opinión
Abbeys are abattoirs
Wo/men abdicate in favor of one’s impulses
And for that
Our circle of the possible is fatal:
Aberration stretch our history
For millions of years.
Our reality, at the present
Is that we have truncated the tip of the possible
Devastating deep floors of our planetary oceans
Raping and killing our alikes.
The power-full riddle
Of the New World is being broken
And the rug of the Neanderthal
is Rolling back up around us.
The actual manifestation of our World
Do You see:
Everywhere we are flawed and horrible.
Daniel de Culla (1955) is a writer, poet, and photographer. He is also a member of the Spanish Writers Association, Earthly Writers International Caucus, Poets of the World, and others. Director of Gallo Tricolor Review, and Robespierre Review. He has participated in Festivals of Poetry, and Theater in Madrid, Burgos, Berlin, Minden, Hannover and Genève. He has exposed in many galleries from Madrid, Burgos, London, and Amsterdam. He is moving between North Hollywood, Madrid and Burgos, Spain. His address is in Burgos, just now. He has more than 70 published books.[/tab]