Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Under a Beech Tree Dancing through stillness the stars learn of the tireless work and bleak future of thinking. The message unclear possibilities unknown. They cross the cosmic streets flaunt their lives, their afterlives. Cling to sensations when physical bodies are absent. Bodies use to hearing songs while lying on Mexican blankets, drinking poems, reading wine, heads stuck in the heavens.

Let's talk about us, we are not simple but yes, we're vulgar. I'm not sad or happy, my resentment is made up of frost, understand me? We need very little. For example, more time to kiss two or three  other mouths without committing. We need plausible passion in the background of what  we’re willing to receive, maybe loyalty and commitment. But we’re soft and stupid, and never stop crying. Mud drags the earth  that unites us. We’re misery  of infinite nothingness,  and everything’s  understandable frost.