Thursday, August 17, 2017

here - tanka

here: the eagle,
the tiger, the heart
on loan …
for joy, a sad soul
between my bones

No Longer in Need of a Ménage à Trois

No Longer in Need of a Ménage à Trois
(in the voice of Janis Joplin)

I'm willing to accept
that not all men are for me.
Not even the ones I like.
You must also be willing to accept
that you cannot have us all.
But I can be your man.
Be your man.
Think about it.
If you love me, I'll make you feel
If you love me ...
If you love me, I'll make you feel
as if I were

the only man on Earth.

The Day After the Tenth Anniversary of Your Passing

The Day After the Tenth Anniversary of Your Passing

What am I to do mother,
a man, alone among trees?
With a solitude colder than the days of global cooling,
a glacier of the soul.

Flare red and round, the moon rises after a purple sunset.
A heavy atmosphere breathes and burns,
fiery coal pliers press the chest,
a pungent spicy smell nests in the mouth,
a glacier soul, mother,
a glacier soul in the middle of this searing power ...

Mother, how can you tell those I find there is love?
That your creative power makes me fruitful?
That I would gamble it all
 ―once again
for you?
How can I tell them, love conquers everything!

The Griffon's Impulse

The Griffon's Impulse

I was not born to lose
            or win.
My life is in nostalgia gone out of style.

Like a friend said
when he got beaten by the police:
This is fucked up.
The world ain't worth shit.
Better I stay stoned.

The least I could do
 is blame it on the energy shortage
                        or the speed of time
                                    the objective eye of the world
but I know
it is my negligence
                        that opens and closes the doors
                                    until I surrender
                                                to every


I get tired
of the idiotic pride in being a man.
Wolves can tell the most
magnificent stories about perverse lambs.
Lizards do not know
they live in the Third World,
and pigs can't invent bombs.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017



The walls framing memory
remain relentless

before every dawn.
A silhouette is hushed

& with its silence
it denounces

the unbearable texture
of daily rites.

Once exposed, truth,
in its viscous form,

allowed me to formulate
the identity of the person―

a fallen jockey,
with wounds & laziness,

that despite everything
persists in riding the day.

walking - a tanka

walking can present itself 
like a loaded weapon
with rare pain
in its barrel ...
I watch you scurry away

Monday, August 14, 2017

a soul - haiku

a soul does not fit
in seventeen syllables
suffering planet

In the style of Amado Nervo

Photograph by Sergio A. Ortiz

In the style of Amado Nervo

I must defend José Lezama Lima
from the hate in the trenches.
Defend him from scandal
and derision, censorship and censors
transient sensations
and conclusive impressions

Defend Lezema Lima from astonishment
and a kicks-in-the-ass
from the disinterested and the neurotic
harsh infamies
and clumsy diagnosis

Defend him with a howl 
and the hubbub of the mills
from the walls, the embarrassments
and heavenly places
from blasphemy and Academia

To defend him from hate is a certainty
defend him from neighbors and quarrels
lavish time machines
drought and relativism
optimistic literati

To defend José Lezama Lima is a right
defend him from God and from the hell
of majuscules and luck
stiff-necks and influxes
of the azure

and hatred

Disclosure - You & Me feat. Eliza Doolittle (Flume Remix)

Eliza Doolittle

Eliza Sophie Caird (born 15 April 1988),[1] better known by her stage name Eliza Doolittle, is an English musician and recording artist from Camden Town, London.[2] After performing her music in live venues around London from the age of 15, Eliza signed to Parlophonein 2008.[3]
Her debut eponymous album was released on 12 July 2010 and went Platinum[4] in the UK. The album, Eliza Doolittle, produced two UK top forty hits: "Skinny Genes" and "Pack Up", the latter of which peaked within the top five on the UK Singles Chart.[5]
In 2013, Eliza contributed her writing and vocal skills to "You & Me" a single from British Electronic duo Disclosure's number one debut album 'Settle'.[6]
On 7 June 2013 she premiered a single called "Big When I Was Little", which was released in July 2013. It subsequently joined BBC Radio 1's and Radio 2 playlist. It was later included on her second studio album, titled In Your Hands.[7]

Sunday, August 13, 2017

Lorde - Perfect Places


Ella Marija Lani Yelich-O'Connor (born 7 November 1996), better known by her stage name Lorde (/ˈlɔːrd/), is a New Zealand singer-songwriter and record producer. Born in Takapuna and raised in DevonportAuckland, she became interested in performing as a child. In her early teens, she signed with Universal Music Group and was later paired with songwriter and record producer Joel Little. At the age of sixteen, she released her first extended play, The Love Club EP (2012), reaching number two on the national record charts in both New Zealand and Australia.
"Royals" was serviced as Lorde's debut single in mid-2013, becoming an international crossover hit and made her the youngest solo artist to achieve a US number-one single on the Billboard Hot 100 since 1987. Lorde's debut studio album Pure Heroine (2013) garnered positive reviews for her depiction of suburban adolescence; yielding the additional top-ten single "Team", it topped the national charts in New Zealand and Australia and reached number three on the US Billboard 200. The following year, Lorde curated the soundtrack for The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1 (2014) and provided its lead single, "Yellow Flicker Beat". Lorde released her second studio album Melodrama (2017) after a three-year hiatus, launched with "Green Light" as its lead single.[2] She served as executive producer alongside Jack Antonoff. The record dealt with themes of heartbreak and solitude.
Lorde's music consists of subgenres such as dream pop and indietronica. She has earned two Grammy Awards, a Brit Award and ten New Zealand Music Awards. In 2013, she was named among Time's most influential teenagers in the world, and in the following year, she was part of Forbes's "30 Under 30" list.

Your hands

photograph by Sergio A. Ortiz

Your hands

made of water
fill my eyes with light.

You rain and leaves come to be verdant.
You rain and butterflies flutter.
You rain and fruits quench my thirst.

Your moist hands
caress the skin of the earth
and ripe fruits grow into drops of honey.

You: the mirror of suns
latched on to heaven's path.
You: the mirror of slumberous rain.

Your eyes wet with spilled water
watch the moon undress
while night tigers eat your liquid dreams.

Application for Canonization

Photograph by Sergio A. Ortiz

Application for Canonization

I hereby request to be canonized
in the holy Church of Love.

A man swore eternal love,
but his love was hell on earth.
I have more stigmata on my body
than those required by your Church,
greater tears than those expressed in cubic centimeters
by any of the aspirants to be canonized,
greater number of hours of insomnia,
& on my knees so many eloquent calluses
that my friends call me:
Adela the genuflect.

One night
he made me walk like a bitch,
meow like a cat,
cry like a teenage girl
and sing like an old woman.

Another night,
he forced me to kiss the portrait of his beloved.
I thought that maybe
he forced his beloved to kiss mine.
That same night ―you do not know
how sorry I am to write this,
he screamed & called me a degenerate whore.

As for the requirement demanded by the Church:
You will love even if they grind you with rocks,
I can assure you that my love is immeasurable.
That man is my Greatest Good.

So, having been humiliated,
offended, vilified,
set aside, and vexed;
having been confined to that strange latitude
which is: dead in life.

I, Adela Soba,
in full measure of my mental faculties,
humbly ask to be canonized as a lay saint
with the right to appear on the altars of horror.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Last Night -Second Version

Last Night  -  Second Version

I had a shipwreck in my bed.
He desecrated all my saintly shafts
wrapped in God and bed sheet,
he did not ask permission.

His manhood, sullen.
We lived that spiteful health
with which hunger kills
when laying with another body.

We talked about celestial
decorations and icons.
But it ended when the
saint and sign were given.

Last night I slept with a faceless man.
and his shadow. The seas know
nothing of the case. His caresses,
arrows that I taught to soar.

Between the Sword and the Wall

Between the Sword and the Wall

Nobody likes to be between 
the sword and the wall.

When you're in that trance 
life tastes like vinegar.

When you knock on a door 
your ass opens.

If you scream for help 
its sharp blades answer,

fragments forming
an unspeakable monster.

You're alive and you're dead,
you're awake and dreaming.

You look at your opponent, 
who is the guardian of your balance,

beg him not to weigh you
but he puts you on his plate.

Your heart and gut, dust and horror. 
While the sky shines, your picture

darkens.  The wall closes
like theatre curtains. 

Your Act is over.
I'm going to get a drink. 

Friday, August 11, 2017

Wednesday, August 09, 2017

An Animal Resembling Desire

An Animal Resembling Desire

Under an undecided bird

the day whines about orphanhoods,

clouds of absence hurting

a dark putrid silence.

One by one the city awakens 

its dead under a tired sky

to offer the waters 

of its most recent words.

An animal resembling desire  

extends its laborious wings to petriphy

the only tree that remains standing. 

Under fear's silhouette 

infancy picks up its waist

and places it on a stone blind wall.

Under desperation leaves

a god made of solitudes 

forces the clouds 
to rain punishments

and transform boulders 
into jaguars.

Poem Up at Spillword

Poem Up at Spillword, Taurus 

Tuesday, August 08, 2017

The Last Threshold

The Last Threshold

The promise to return

to the place w6here life began

Failure, to be banished

from an endless happiness

Shadows that wandered

the desert carrying their own past

A leaf-storm-fear

thrown to the felines of night

A beggar's desire going door

to door and sitting on the steps

of  last threshold

to discuss his ragged loneliness

his bones, a premonition

of the mirror where death calls

The indelible imprint of pain

and undaunted scars

A history of humiliating executioners

and false fabulists

The unsatisfied thirst of gods

who bully us with their vengeance

and a tree who in its old age

only nested birds of prey

Saturday, August 05, 2017

Last night

Last night 

I slept with a faceless man 
and his shadow. The seas know 
nothing of the case. His caresses, 
arrows that I taught to soar.

His manhood, sullen.
He hit me with a hammer 
on the coccyx. We lived 
that spiteful health
with which hunger kills
when laying with another body.

I had a shipwreck in my bed.
He desecrated all my saintly shafts 
wrapped in God and bed sheet,
he did not ask permission.

We talked about celestial decorations 
and icons. But it ended when the 
saint and sign was given.

Friday, August 04, 2017



Never tell me that secret.
Keep it to yourself,
that between us the convulsive
beauty of this island may last.
Embezzled of its green,
hope broken island.

Incendiary seed of an afternoon
that illuminated fertile land, those vines
hidden at the bottom of their own abyss.
Hurricane winds between the lips
of your sweet wine.

The music of water when I dig into your skin
and elaborate with thirst my ancient hoe.
The frightened caress, the dark kiss,
your salt collapse

and your landslide.
The convulsive beauty of the cry
that crossed this isle.



Saw my light on and all others off.
Saw my time entering the time of others.
Searched for you while
tending the dreams of others.

During my youth, I made sure
someone would see me coming from the war.
I hated those who made me believe
that "we" had discovered the world together
when only I suffered.

Who goes through the pain like
a mother feels the same or more?
I do not think so.

A man leaves his life and comes to me,
takes the floor, smells it, tastes it, relishes it.

I tell him, how beautiful a man he is
like all men that don't believe in anything.
He says, how necessary you are,
a man who needs to believe in everything.

Wednesday, August 02, 2017

Poem Up at Ariel Chart (Former People)

Poem Up at Ariel Chart: The Things We Draw On Mapas 

Three Poems by by Sergio A. Ortiz - Published by Former People

The roof

The roof 

place where hell burns endlessly, 
where we cure loneliness.

Where men kiss each other
and from their mouths gush 

red rays that bristle legs.
Six wall hangout like heads

that swell in size when it rains.
Where survivors laugh

while the voice of an angry boombox
blasts. On those 2x6 large frame walls

I treasured life like a trained bird,
filled my hands with its blood,

loved a man while dancing.
He loved me back 

between unnumbered glasses 
of Dom Perignon.

Wild Needle Raindrops

Wild Needle Raindrops

It rained inside the bedroom.
Outside these sea walls

the day is a hot red knot.
My body fills up with wet nouns.

Silence has a light-blue Spanish 
accent. The men in my photographs 

drowned. Their cries of distress 
stopped breaking the water.

I am a moist flesh statue.
Lightning begins, embedded 

in my feet. The walls crawl with electricity.
I doze off again listening to turtle music.

Tuesday, August 01, 2017

my body - tanka

my body,
not a twilight sleepwalker,
refuses the coffin-
a rhino at the foot of my bed
calls me by all my names

My body

My body 

is not a twilight sleepwalker.
I've seen my body refuse its coffin,

& a rhino at the foot of my bed
calling me by all my names
(as if it were The Dove),

& the red eyes of flesh,

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