Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Deadly Mirror Inconclusive thoughts, what I hear inside my head. My imagination flutters like a swallow, and cries like a hungry baby. I sit and play the saxophone in self-contemplation.  The mirror tells the truth, but not enough to merit constant thought. I am folding inward over and over. Six inches of words and I am betrayed, hypnotized into believing I achieved all there is to achieve in this art form. So, I start a new contemplation of the swallow, and I listen to fragmented phrases, read life studies, and notebooks, of his memoirs, the flowers that sustain all of earth.

A Litany for Survival An elephant walked into my bedroom reciting a litany for survival.  She spoke about her mother and sister having died too many deaths that were not their own. About winter people taking off their blood masks and monuments for the children of war. About hunger and blind feet trying to find their way to the sun. About a greedy black unicorn captive in Australia. About having two faces and a simmering frying pan ready to cook up her daughters. She spoke about men with stone eyes fucking in the hallway, Said the hall was covered with beggars she couldn’t step over. Perhaps, she wasn't meant to survive after all.

Ghost Looking like a jungle is where I am never myself. I don't want to trip over the sounds of the wilderness’s bewitching hour. Life apart from the pain I conceal from myself is impossible. Come play in the rain. This is not that same winter downpour where December was you. Where the loss of my dead became custom. I counted the dead roses in the garden. I forgot to write my name on the mailbox. You couldn't listen to my dreams. I couldn't question yours. The scars are still there. I don’t know how many years I spent trying to forget, or how many years I’ll spend trying to remember.