Showing posts from March, 2018

Now this pain is tears

Now this pain is tears   and that's okay. Ulysses let's dance, let's love. Flower of the sweet wind that trapped me, branch of my grief: make me whole, leaf by leaf. Lull yourself in my dreams, I clothe you with my blood, this is your cradle. Let me kiss you one by one, the many men you are, foam coral, Nestor, yes, Edwin when Andres, let me cry and see you. I am nothing more than tears now and I lull you, Ulysses, cry, cry.

Incidentes Nocturnos

Incidentes Nocturnos ¿Qué pasa si me voy y el viento sigue oliendo a jacinto? ¿Seré, una llamativa disposición de núcleos Gaudi, un círculo gris del tamaño de una manzana en la túnica de un judío, evitando más accidentes eco-biológicos malos ? Cada niño todavía tiene una linterna encendida adentro. Que las Madres no apaguen a sus hijos. El huerto de flores es negro, suntuoso en el vacío. Setas de patas azules alinean la pasarela a mi puerta . No se las sirvo al hombre que amo . Nos acostamos como si estuviésemos en una góndola. Venecia es magnífica en el frio de diciembre. La araña violín tiene seis buenos ojos, arreglados de tres en tres. Los bordes de las cicatrices también tienen cicatrices. Esfinge, eres inescrutable.

I know You by Your First Name

I know You by Your First Name In my house loneliness sits on an armchair, stirs my bed sheets and opens the book where my rival’s name is written. Soledad, my enemy, wakes me to injure like a tightrope around my throat. I don’t take my innocence to that well. I’m not the one whose dawns are clouds and poison ivy climbing the stairs to the bedroom. I sit alone at the breakfast table, alone turning off the TV to pray and receive the devil of insomnia. My enemy ties me up with obstinate dialogue morning, noon, and night. But no one can say I don’t put up a fight. Beyond my skin and more, inside of my bones, I love. Beyond my mouth and its words, from the knot of my tormented sex, I know I will die from nothing other than love.

Ya ni su trigo precisó

Ya ni su trigo precisó la casa de mi rival esta poblada de muchas superficies no puedo quitarme el caparazón temo golpearme con los roncos lamentos de mi amante indeciso el jardín de mi rival esta habitado  por huecos vacíos y el cielo quebrado que son mis labios ligeros hace mucho que abandono su hoguera

Looking Out from Where You Once Stood

Looking Out from Where You Once Stood The corners never turn. No witness established the degree of their fractured evanescence, angles bear the taste of swearability. The arc of memories arranged with  patience: bitter, moist, entangled. A trigger that makes the human heart bleed. Fiction allows a corner to be replaced (curved, bent) so one can breathe.  Answers  the real, the vacated. Malleable, the wall where one was cherished. A sense of curvature stands where once you stood.