Theo Ellin Ballew write about La mitad que nunca existio
Varillas on Lhe bar. ill. us. On the bars· gathered tips foot pads nauened at ali lilts.
We'd been swinging but we struck within our textures.
We'd flipped. ,nners shedding sprays.
Helio rny nostrils run rarnpant helio their hairs they are laden.
Lo horizontal ílies on Lo vertical straightens off Lo horizontal mes into Deep and breaks. Lo vertical es
and those fru1ts of labor no verá Lo honzontal would tangle 1f run forever but straightens. frozen cuando
Sliced fand down in squares and w1th sands stiff hot l1ke blue.
What azul inside there was shadow
Norched th1n f1ke my beerfe back. leaning ,n ,rs fine
Tainted f1ke dust down spreading thin
Pearly-hke sprout1ng on below. Pearly-l1ke smudg1ng what could surface.
Break-break-edge in every side and ali shed. fully. at each tip
A crust like the surface or cooled lhick soup. dented. in with breaLhing space.
How we d1d march out our blanks.
A diving of skin; down past the belly root.
A foot big as infrnite thirst. planted on sea.
Our shuddenngs acted out in folds.
/\nd if roads seen from Che sky were milenios older than what they break.
Two ritmos touch. or one continúa abajo.
What shades feel up what depths
rlipp1ng out of itself and still wood dense llke cotton.
Of a straw-like draw1ng-1n of a hand Of a straw-like t1pp1ng hke sway
Forehead. sky-facing And ear tucked straight behind
Flinging on the conexión. su belly scaffolding
Bebecito flip rny ear out.
What blind mountain ranges on vertical horizons swung.
In the sifence of behind you. My face against a wall que solo oye.
Hair forest-deep, hard to the touch: and spikes. maybe gone. bent beneath the climb.
Our entrañas. posed out to face.
M1rrors that nos permiten the,r backs1des. Again and always estamos on el lado que no será And we
can't even press our chests to 1t
What insect head, dried out. botella de agua vacía, what water pretend its crooked teeth.
Theo Ellin Ballew