Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Rebellious Rancid perfume flavored with names, I hear from near and far of the vicars who disbelieve in innocence. Lotus eaters of the symbol and the verb, is it possible to live with a fathomless abyss on my back? Let us drown Ausonius's rose, suffocation will silence her. Thus, we behold the invisible mystique of a true rose.

Girl in Fulton Street They’re not really strangers reflecting off the windows, they’re men afoot on a crowded street. I am one of them, a girl in drag abating the neon lights. Clearing my way through a wilderness of leaves, dry and quiet rhymes   without stretch marks, on the banks of a wistful sea where metaphors grow old.