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Dedicatorias
Al enemigo: un cara a cara. Al insomnio: peras o manzanas, una zanahoria dulce. A la espera: un celador Sur Africano blanco dormido sobre una mina de diamantes. Al salón de clases: un reloj, la sobriedad del agua. A la lejanÃa: lo que recuerdo de Omar, un resplandor sigiloso, desnudo y húmedo en lo más profundo de mis pupilas. Al amor: una tregua, y otra tregua. © Sergio A. Ortiz febrero 16 del 2010
Tempestuous - Tomorrow I hope to be reading at The Poet's Passage
So stormy a night So, so bright a day So wide a river So, so shallow its waters So ingenious the thief So, so small the dowry So white the paper So, so muddy the ink So lingering the love So, so treacherous the lover So strong the perfume so, so foul a nape © Sergio A. Ortiz 2009
Esto Quiere Ser
La Imaginación Este masticado agri-dulce ajo / esta asimétrica pierna de Greta Garbo / esta gruta de silencio involuntario / este inédito presagio de beso rÃgido / este anticiclón en la topografÃa de un suspiro / este gentil lubricante de orgasmos bovinos / esta obsesión kyriopascha de convertir lo abstracto en lo concreto. Las Palabras Estas cartografÃas oblicuas /estas canciones corales con esos destellos lejanos / estos guantes de cesti del Foro de Augusto / estos pequeños momentos de nuestras "visiones del paraÃso." Lo Imposible Esta bolsa de lona desnutrida/ este pintor de dientes rellenó de cemento / este gato algebraico resuelto/ esta tarjeta postal invisible para el hombre invisible/ este retumbe que aterroriza la boca de un niño. © Sergio A. Ortiz 14 de febrero de 2010
Medley
She came out of church dressed like her other life, purple, ready for the parties and las palizas , carrying the eighty extra pounds of luggage she pawned the day before. "Funny how a lonely day can make a person say, what good is my life…" The first time I felt mutual kisses, whispers nibbling on my ears, under the cover invitations penetrating, taking flight, I went along with the salutation. "Funny how I often seem to pick and find another dream…" The boxer, the man I bumped into on the corner, Sylvia Rexach and her guitar taking my imagination into humidity. W e were one "This is me, this is me…" His hand on my back crossing me to the other side of the street, taking me to the movies, giving me his lucky charm . "This is my life and I don't give a damn for lo...
“Gloria a esas manos aborÃgenes porque trabajaban.
Gloria a esas manos negras porque trabajaban. Gloria a esas manos blancas porque trabajaban.” Juan Antonio Corretjer there among the moon and sun Iguanaboina signaled my arrival i had found the cave the serpent and a stone from which Atabey drilled and looked through the hole Inriri carved my future existence in the clouds there were dreams and in the bite of the reptile-cobra those dreams became a sounding conch the owls regained their razor-slit eyes and my life was set free free to worship flamboyant trees and dualities © Sergio A. Ortiz Feb, 2010
Cuando el otoño no se acuerda su nombre
el timbre tiene que cambiar y asà lo han hecho todos los timbres suenan para querer, devolver la movilidad de tu conciencia, la que no te vale nada como el K ayak que usas cuando vuelas por las nubes tocando tu tendón de Aquiles un poco envejecido bombón envejecido y embustero a ti te mueve el dinero la cintura estrecha pero envejecida tu zapato derecho la máscara que se usa al correr diez millas de grama linda ® Sergio Ortiz 2010
La Imaginación
Este masticado agri-dulce ajo / esta asimétrica pierna de Greta Garbo / esta gruta de silencio involuntario / este inédito presagio de beso rÃgido / este anticiclón en la topografÃa de un suspiro / este gentil lubricante de orgasmos bovinos / esta obsesión kyriopascha de convertir lo abstracto en concreto © Sergio A. Ortiz 13 de febrero de 2010
Evo-cation
Evo-cation The first glaciers disappeared in Bolivia while I was listening to my shadow repeat that poem about a man fingering his woman. How often must we watch animals going about their reproductive business? Do we need to stare? As I heard the rain crowding out of every cloud in Bolivia a vision appeared: Habra took out his sword and attacked the honey-scented silhouette of Fatimah. She fell off her horse and died soon after. Bolivia cried: Evo-cation! The credits read: Tupaj Katari- dead Citizens of the city of El Alto – massacred Coca farmers – Mano Negra, like all the other anonymous heroes from from El Sur. Pututu blasted the longest minute this year while blood drenched the Legislative Power, damned butchers sitting like peacocks on the balcony. © Sergio A. Ortiz 2006
China moon
A man, ugly, rangy. Hounding, daunting, raping. A sacrificial lamb: Run, fast! Moon masked. Poem © Sergio A. Ortiz 2006