Saturday, July 30, 2016

Buika - Soledad - Una de mis canciones favoritas

7 things to do after the Rapture

7 things to do after the Rapture

Break into Condom World,
spend a month in Paris with a flasher,
learn how to walk on stilettos,
make sure you’re not wearing panties,
fly to Bangkok, get a massage
with a happy ending, eat lots of pineapple,
you’ll end up tasting like a lollipop,
go to the S&M dungeon
at the Torture Garden in a leather kilt,
don’t give away your fetishes,
find the man of your dreams
and marry him on the spot.

When you’re on the screen

When you’re on the screen

I thought I was a mermaid
with an overgrown tail and black eyes.
Your fingers, a sea of mirrors,
slit my body apart. I felt like a snail
full of anxiety, desiring to taste
your laughter, your thighs
from which windstorms of urgencies spring,
to tangled gannets in my mouth.
But this glass sun, this virtual camera  
of anguish does not live of seaweed
or salt. It walks away from the sea
to grovel in the reality
of you temporary nakedness.

Cuando estas en pantalla - Hacía tiempo que no escribía un poema en español. This I have not translated into English, it's new.

Cuando estas en pantalla

Pensé que era sirena
de rabo frondoso y ojos negros.
Tus dedos, un mar de espejos,
quebraron mi cuerpo.
Me sentí caracol lleno de ansiedad
por saborear tu risa, tus muslos
de donde nacen vendavales
de urgencias, alcatraces enredados
en mi boca. Pero este sol de cristal,
esta cámara de angustias, no vive
de algas ni de sal, y se alejó del mar
para humillarse en la realidad
pasajera de tu desnudes.

Friday, July 29, 2016

boys on cam 4

tip me
if you like what you see—
the heartbeat
of a bird in agony,

I’m all out of tokens

cam 2 cam 2 - tanka

cam 2 cam
there’s so much missing’
from his profile …
is he clairvoyant
does he jump from star to star

Thursday, July 28, 2016

cam 2 cam - tanka en español

cam 2 cam
grité mis alabanzas
y solicite un regalo
dame tus noches solitarias
el bálsamo de tus flaquezas

c2c - tanka

c 2 c
I shouted my praise
and made a request—
gift me all your lonely nights,
the balsam of your weaknesses 

boys on cam - tanka

boys on cam 
offer everlasting love 
for twenty minutes 
of vanity …
lyrics to desperate songs

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Broken flowers and Days of violence

Idris doesn't need a last name

Broken flowers and Days of violence

Where do I place my dead?
My skin is full of holes,
clumsy, dark holes filled with dead bodies.
Where do I put these faces,
these hands? My memory is already
brimming with death.
It’s not enough to shout, march
through the streets carrying your portraits
for those empty of light to see.
Hitmen gag those who suffer
with chains, with more than chains,
with hate, a thick, putrid hate.
They masturbate on our chests, panting,
moaning while they polish our heads.
Decapitated days are howling
while hitmen leave the city
roaring with laughter.

Monday, July 25, 2016

My sex awaits you

My sex awaits you

you sweat your loneliness
on Mogador's endless walls
what do you sound like
when I’m not there to listen,
when my sex bids you goodbye?
Do your words fly 
like the hummingbird?

Sunday, July 24, 2016

I was born - tanka

I was born 
without a truce, 
empty of gods, 
wrecked in the cool of dawn 
at the foot of your forest

Friday, July 22, 2016

When there’s nothing left to do but walk away

When there’s nothing left to do but walk away

Go away
to where this sting
of languages
cannot find you.
Take my bed of splinters,
leave silence as a promise.
We'll both be judged
by the same darkness,
burn when we see
each other distant,
so real, fractured,
cynically different.

deserts grow - tanka

deserts grow
on my skin, my waist
the shadow of your hands…
this stench is other people’s pain

I looked in your eyes - tanka

I looked in your eyes
and saw your heart fading
into turbid rivers,
your silence strangling
my name


El Convento Hotel in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico


I am an amorphous seed
and words are my lair.
My eyes grow in disarray
to the rhythm of elderly sounds
surrounding me.
I was born without a truce.
Empty of gods, I wait for night
to turn into dust, but I can’t leave your eyes.
Silent and extinct, I dwell in your grooves,
and review my confinement within your borders.
Outside of you I am transparent,
lightweight, tiny. In your autumn skin—
dry moon— I fall apart between your legs.
You breed my throat from point to point.
I sprout from you.

Thursday, July 21, 2016

A love problem

A love problem

my love, I’ve got to wreck
this animal’s costume trunk

I dreamed that a chameleon
followed me everywhere

that I only had one razor blade
I thought that when I woke

I’d be kissing your breast
but I don’t recognize things in this room

one night is enough
for these carnivals

I just want to catch that chameleon
the rest will straightened itself out

when he’s dead

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

she’s asleep - tanka

Malcolm Liepke, American Painter

she’s asleep,
dreams of chrysanthemums
trickle down her nipples…
her insides
are nothing but mercy

listen to her breathe
until she breaks
like a branch…

dawn has not arrived

Sometimes the rain

Yesterday I let the sea wrap itself around me,
it dragged me with rage
and removed everything I am
except my body.
The sea does not drag misfortune.

I love you like the enduring past,
the hidden future.

I have not changed much.
I’m still marveled by the sea,
I let myself be carried away
by its waves.

I tell lies so I can say I’m joking,
I haven’t changed at all,
and in my eternal repetition,
my disrespectful, treacherous day,
you fluctuate like sea waves.  

To the one with the starry eyes - long poem

To the one

with the starry eyes
and a heart of stone…
everything is always you.

My name is as common as a door
or an empty photograph.
I will not call upon your namesake,
I’d rather call you brother
(I’m with you             in your pain).

My chest is an uncertain number
of certainties. I am not homeless,
nor am I sick with deadly fever.
I suffer love, and that is perishable pain.
Time rots what it does not understand.

I am son, brother, slave.
Each one knows
which part of me belongs to them.
Sometimes I’m a cock
and it’s not because I’m scared
or an asshole, it’s just my face.

Yesterday I let the sea wrap itself
around me me, it pulled me in with rage,
removed everything I am
except my body,
the sea does not tackle misfortune.

I love you like the enduring past,
the hidden future.
I have not changed much.
I tell lies so I can say I’m joking,
I haven’t changed at all,
and in my eternal repetition,
my disrespectful, treacherous day,

you come and go like sea waves.

tanka poem - to the one

to the one
with the starry eyes
and a heart
of stone…
everything is always you

Sunday, July 10, 2016

I’m looking at you

I’m looking at you 

the beauty
of your silky smile
the velvet sound
of your voice
your absorbent silence

your warm and slow
diagonal gait floats
as if it were snubbing
the plants
bristling on my skin

your skin
messes up my hair
your hair
the scent
that lives in my mouth

my mouth full of teeth
your absence
the muscle or the shoe
that I kiss

I kiss your legs
you sob
your toes 
are on my chest
my chest about to explode

your eyes
are burning
your most intimate hair 
on the edge
of your forest

and I moan
my demolishing tongue
razes the lower and the upper
part of your trembling body
your body pure as amber

Wednesday, July 06, 2016

I will forget - tanka

I will forget 
these bent enigmas,
these rectilinear watches
of hope, this alien body
in the flame of sandalwood

Inch by inch - for Alex

Inch by inch

Skin, hair, tenderness—
my love is touching you.
You are no longer
an imaginary happiness,
now you are my permanent bliss,
the open air where I lose to win.

You say, count to ten and find me,
and I start looking for you.
I ask, are you there,
and you come out of your hideout laughing,
with yourself  in the background,
wrapped in a new scent,
a different nakedness.

Tuesday, July 05, 2016

come to me - in English and Indonesian

come to me
to catch my aura

I am the wind
and the opposite
of wind

datang ke saya
menangkap aura saya

saya angin
dan sebaliknya

Monday, July 04, 2016

From a Sea of Silence

From a Sea of Silence

My mother used to sing,
I don’t know if she sang to forget the debris,
or the cobwebs of time, the blood
that did not return.
Mother’s sleepless light lived
behind a lace curtain,
her body peopled with ghosts.
And now, when I call her,
only the sea responds.

Sunday, July 03, 2016

he’s gone - tanka

he’s gone,
should I fly away?
the afterglow
of happy times still lingers…
a night wind howls

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