Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Ramona Ramona, come closer Shut softly your watery eyes The pangs of your sadness Will pass as your senses will rise Bob Dylan, To Ramona When night ashes spill on your pupils, the same as in a defenseless city, knotting your silence, you don’t tell me anything. Moss also grows on my lips. We contemplate each other as if our bodies didn’t exist. I come to your room with a confusion of mouth and a capsizing of manhood. I bring my daily offering, a mound of absence cast in copper memories.

This is a Dream Do not fear hit men coming with air guns under the rain. Do not ache for victims at the corner waiting. Do not worry, the gods of human sacrifice are dead. This is a dream. When you wake, there will be no assassins, only the rain falling on an empty street.

Little Oedipus It was early morning, the mother woke up the youngster and between supplications, and prayers to the god of earthquakes. She dug her fingers into the sockets of the little boys eyes then opened the door of the squalid household and cast the little Oedipus, with blood dripping down his face, to grope about the paths of earth announcing the end of the world.