The world of the seven doors is balanced, above, on the neck: the human head ... Round, like two planets: the nucleus burns at its center first. Bone the cortex; on it the dermal silt sown from the thick forest of the hair. From the nucleus in absolute blue tides, the water rises from the gaze and opens the soft doors of the eyes like seas in the earth. ... so quiet those gentle waters of God that on them butterflies and golden insects swing. And the other two doors: the antennas huddled in the catacombs that start the ears; Wells of sounds, nacreous snails where the expressed word resonates and does not express it: pipes placed to the right and to the left so that the sea never stops. and the mechanical wing of the rumorous worlds be. And the mountain raised above the equatorial line of the head: the nose of wax leaves where the color of life begins to shut up; the two doors where she advances -flowers, branches and fruits- the fragrant serpentine spring. And the crater of the mouth with burning edges and calcined and parched walls; the crater that casts the sulfur of violent words, the dense smoke that comes from the heart and its storm; the gate in sumptuous carved corals where it engulfs, the beast, and the angel sings and smiles and the human volcano baffles. The world of the seven wells is balanced, above, on the neck: the human head. And pink meadows are opened in their silk valleys: mossy cheeks, And shimmering on the forehead, white desert, the distant light of a dead ...

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