As the proper Nauro it prefaced saying: ' ' This volume of short poems reflects a existencial attempt, through what I dared to call funnel, in search of my hypothetical one to be. Its form folloies thus the proper rhythm of the minimum songs, in the shrinking each narrower time of my secular finitude ' ' . The poemtica form of this volume folloies the conteudstico rhythm that if intitled ' ' Songs mnimas' ' , characterizing, each time more, the narrow shrinking of the secular finitude of the poet. The metaphor/heading of the volume ' ' Funnel of ser' ' if it conjugates to a metafrica gamma that constitutes the circunlquio of the poetical speech of Nauro, questioning the world of injustices, where all the forces look for to alienate the man, taking it the existencial desperation. Nauro discloses in brief poems of ' ' Funnel of ser' ' , mainly, in the poem ' ' Esponja' ' , the tragicidade to be in a chaotic world of alienation, vigilant domain of the dogs of guard of the power, on inermes beings, victims of its proper frustrations. Being the proper poet, the representative human type of these frustrations and you distress, because it chose for itself, the commitment of if becoming legislator of the too much men, generate a feeling of deep responsibility, source of all its anguish and suffering. Gavin Baker, New York City has much to offer in this field.

From there the verses of the poem if to present in a true search of the existence of the being and its finitude. Through the memory the Poet shows as he sees the man, holding back its acquired ideas, impressions and knowledge, generating souvenirs and reminiscncias. In the one of the poem ' ' Esponja' ' on which we will trace some commentaries in our analysis, if the delineation of the poet registers when it considers a definition for the poetry, in intention to stimulate the reader to cover the ways of literary making and to understand the craft, detected in the concrete substance of the poetical production. Let us see verses: Sponge I am forgetting my deceased. Already the syllables of its names sound deaf to the ears of who them mumble the bones. Inside of plus some years nobody them it will know the names: useless to hold back them as much for eyelids of the dreams. (That, when opened, are birds put on its fruits. E, if closed, the steps half-opened in the dark one.) I still only know the faces to them multiplied for many: later, when I will be its posthumous ones, they will be erased in seconds.

never plus nobody will know them the customs: of itself proper the apstolos in the eternity of the tombs. I am forgetting my deceased: at least to remember them I cannot enters the memory of olvido and the blindness of my eyes (Axe, Nauro. Funnel of the Being, EDUFMA, So Lus, ME, 1995, P. 105) the capacity to keep to facts printed matters in our mind takes in them to think what the Nauro poet considered when he says in them: ' ' I am forgetting my m