Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Salvaje soy huérfano y admiro a las mujeres que se visten de hombre y a los hombres que se visten de aire fui dolor de esquina en los Campos Elíseos celadora y prisionera magnate del rencor que cava la niebla en busca de su Adán rostro desfigurado del amor nariz carcomida por moscas fruta podrida  rata  en el atardecer de mi juventud tuve un padre albino pirata señor  de mano dura y corva que le temía al hacha a la madrugada hecha de fuego y bruma a la loba comida que no era sino yo misma hasta que me convertí en lago oscuro transparente nada   

people  lie on day's torso while I resist  times wooing like a slave 

Savage Daybreak light blade, open fruit that changes night into fire, you are my eyes covered with mist I’m on fire my clothes have burned and I’m naked condemned to be sought out by whispers

you attacked me with coldblooded kisses… before you arrived I was no saint, so heads or tails you win

caressing  the sand with my shadow I wish I had smile  replacements and a repertoire  of ways of expressing myself

the color of my skin at the far side of the bars-- voices from behind the wall locked away

his HIV status was positive and he forgot to mention it… I'm burning up the sun to say goodbye* *David Tennant's , says this in a Dr. Who, Doomsday episode

I cross a bridge to another bridge day smells of sun and resin… my flesh lost in dreams

we play pool with our voices at the edge of the pond fenced in by mountains

a Chinese fish hides behind the rocks of a wet heart I know, I was there inside the mirror

I wish my life could fall into death like a spring of beautiful water... sensual, happy, diluted

tripping over wandering jew on my mother's grave you arrived like the tinted dawn weak, sad, yet shiny

november breeze the kitchen door blew open the gift was small a single pearl earring... oh misery, where is your salve?

first she was naked then she got dressed mine forever poetry

I don't know    hoe to say it,   because    it's not yet made...   my silent word  his nakedness  and the sea  live inside me   like autumn,  to me, it still is   autumn  I can feel the frost now*  *Autumn, Barbara Streisand

past twilights were twenty shades of winter and there were blue violet roses in the sky

worn out  in the haze of a dream the afternoon  blooms in heavenly  orchards when I read you

pila de estiércol restos agrios de la noche   fría como dicen estas profundamente oculto en mi alma

silence  tearing up my dawn chilliness  of daybreak bitter debri of night

eyes full  of nostalgia sadness full of the scent of roses shadows glim like sighs

fear  settles in your brain a fog--  I was born under water like a circle

there's a new flag  flying in Washington after five decades  of antarctic cold, cubana lust  makes me want to dance

for those who borrowed lines from a poem there was shame and a skull tattooed on their foreheads for those who crossed a river barefoot there was laughter and a dry spot on a boulder a hug and a kiss on the cheek for those who  accused their ancestors  of producing sugar there were machetes  waving  in a sea of indifference for those who tucked their children in there were bees and butterflies tickling their noses for those who  recorded sound in space there was a lesson  in coming back  they'll never forget

Spring  the end  of a bad year a noose  suspended over an elm words injured by a dream the opening  of a window that was never  built on a wall the strand of hair from  a murdered pin-up model a dog  with a skateboard  and a cat paddling in the water a pocket full of cicadas

the end  of a bad year a noose  suspended over an elm words injured by a dream

teatro del silenzio this  is my country  silence is the ground I walk singing a hymn to love deep within the sea of silence I bring  back memories shadows in my eyes

Concrete Jungle when do you know it’s time to marry a man with an umbrella? one who lives in front of a sex club, the one closest to you, and gets lost in himself on rainy days

where is your native land? dipped in mud, my head covered with the thin blanket of poverty refugees on their last legs-- playground stones in the cupped hand of a lifeless child agoraphobia... who can blame me for declining to defy such whiteness with the snowshoe cruelty of tracks http://www.abilitymaine.org/breath/sum15b.html

my body encircled by hundreds  of cliffs  no other visitor than a drifting cloud

my body encircled by hundreds  of cliffs  no other visitors but the clouds

Butterfly Dream: First Cicada Haiku by Sergio A. Ortiz English Original first cicada of the season inside your ripped jeans Sergio A. Ortiz Chinese Translation (Traditional) 本季的第一隻蟬在你的撕開牛仔褲裡面 Chinese Translation (Simplified) 本季的第一只蝉在你的撕开牛仔裤里面

cinders live in the fields  of dead corn abandoned by the hum of life ravens gather on a wire

lost to the strand the eye of a blue parrot  hanging upside down

a box of buttons  before the year 2000 the good old days

in deep tied up shoelace

time is infectious  everybody's growing old I'm going crazy somebody find me  someone to love

you've got  that healing that I want I dream  about a burning house  the two of us up in smoke

first cicada of the season inside your ripped jeans

hold on to me don't let me go freedom keep me inside the pocket  of your ripped jeans

raking  leaves in the yard I remember that photo of us at the beach my needs are different now

I looked up to you  the music still ringing  in my head another chapter  of my life at a close

this is why it must end I am not used to  following you around  bending like a lily  to the breath of the wind, the ruins of my sorrow adrift we don't believe in their own life anymore  thats why we are exiled  unable to find our own nakedness in the land of gold and oil

I stand by the window wrapped in a blanket watching a funeral in progress, my tongue tastes like people I miss