Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Needless to Say Today, all is distant in the house of dead mirrors. Bitter will my memory be, tart the steps in this transparent home. I've learned not to die a natural death. That's why I no longer need to share my thoughts. I’m like the cracks of the house without verandas. I live riddled by irredeemable language, grow crackling, deafened by a filthy light.

Undertow Tanka Review is Open for Submissions.  Send 10 of your best modern Haiku and/or Tanka.  Art is also accepted, we tend to favor surreal paintings. Send your submissions to: undertowtanka@gmail.com

It’s Summer in the Heart of my Blizzard The rain that hangs on the coat rack is infinite and light, like old foreskin dripping its resentful flaccidity. It is the anonymous principle of time impregnated by stupid angels, a fury of orphans and forgetfulness that does not end end end Summer afternoons do not know how to get down on their knees. There is always a genital murmur in them and an obstinate propensity to sleep. Weight scale that balances the nostalgia of things, scissors of light for the umbilical cord of the stars. Summer is vihuela, rotating stars and vihuela. Siren Tamer, summer counts its exploits. It evokes cut nipples, conch shells, pupils, angelic and exquisite tortures. I, immersed in the depths of the ink, just listen, like one listens to an impertinent drunk.