Little Gifts from the March Hare
by Luis Ullán
Knitted by a golden spider,
a polished dream awakened
and came to me as a clear premonition;
like invisible, terrifying images
of my future hesitant decisions.
Morpheus knows better about my ancient actions;
those moments of mental derangement
governed by the vulgar March hare
and his cruel death attraction.
Now I´m back in Wonderland,
drinking lucid dreams and eating crazy prompts.
Living into an endless nightmare;
nailing words with a forked tongue.