Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

The End of Night I exist to be conquered. I, set against all other I’s, am a stillborn poem taken out of my mother’s womb. Once I was immortal, condemned to endless mornings, empty of the knowledge of manmade rituals. Until out of my mouth that knows, came the shape I was seeking. Now I want to be a waterfall of hummingbirds covering our bodies. Sometimes I read you under another twilight. In that half-light your voice is different. When you open your wings you do not look like yourself but I know that it’s you.

The Alembic Soft humid hair trickles from his torso to his belly button. I moisten my lips. When the fruit ripens, he places it in containers fashioned in scented Spanish Oak and moss. But to me Jerez is not what gives him the fragrance of Montilla. It only forces me to savor the memory of his abdomen.

Dolphins and Moons The sword of perfection is unworthy of mention in my lovers presence unless it be drawn with regret. Bones wear out with age, fire can be extinguished, but simplicity is better chained to hearts, like dolphins swimming around the aura of a lunar eclipse a centered pendant. When my lover touches my hair I shatter into dancing moons.