Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Tu, el que arroja la piel apresada de mi piel presa, por la fuerza de las circunstancias, al olvido en mi día de ira.  El facsímil del país de los infieles. Magnum opus de la sinceridad.  Amor contesta!  ¿Acaso son mis grietas y fisuras las que crean este loco oleaje dentro mi corazón?  Contesta, así podre poner mis guantes blancos sobre tu saber vivir. © Sergio A. Ortiz 4 de febrero, del 2010

in you everything is a beginning unattested albeit a number of real and imaginary lines in the cartography below the first layer of my epidermis © Sergio A. Ortiz 2009 published in “big lucks” Issue # 1, February 2010

This greatest voice Puerto Rico has ever had.

this is really funny

La orquesta Yo soy / Tú eres / Nosotros somos Esta tríada que pide al cuarto / este no muerto, no vivo, que no sangra salvo por el clamor desesperado, el consenso amplio de lo torcido. El hospital Yo soy / Tú eres / Nosotros somos Esta procesión de confesos criminales / esta tusa arrabalera, capaz de matar por un centavo / esta privación del sentido común / esta máquina sin piel / este oído sordo que no sabe disfrutar del tango /  este sinsabor postoperatorio / esta inexistente sala de emergencias. El Extravió Yo soy / Tú eres / Nosotros somos Este elipsis / este grillete en los labios que te encarcela la boca / esta mano abierta que no se atreve a aterrizar en la mejilla del vampiro / este cirujano de mierda. Las Lenguas Muertas Yo soy / Tú eres / Nosotros somos Esta madre muerta/ este hijo muerto / este padre muerto / esta hermana muerta / este anciano muerto / este amigo muerto, solo porque los dejamos solos en sus últimos momentos. El Otoño Este futuro invier...

Today I went to Pavia Hospital in Hato Rey, Puerto Rico, because I thought I was having a heart attack. It took them close to 5 hours to run test and take care of me and only because I opened my mouth and demanded attention.   There was a disoriented man, a junky, possibly with a life threatening disease, in the same eme rgency ward where I was. No one paid this man any attention until I started taking pictures of him. Then they gave him some food and something to cover his torso, but I never saw a doctor get near him. If you go alone to a hospital in Puerto Rico, if you live alone and have to provide outpatient care without the proper help of a professional, if you or your family do not know how to defend yourself from these abusive institutions, chances are you will not come out alive from a hospital in Puerto Rico .

Estuve temeroso y fui la castañeta, juglar blanco con la cara pintada de negro. No fui la coleta del torero que amortigua golpes o señala el honor su retiro. Castañeta de Zambra Mora sacudiendo mis caderas, reposando tu palma sobre mi ombligo. Baile nupcial tormentoso, palillo de fiesta tentadora. ©  Sergio A. Ortiz 25 de febrero de 2010

We walked five miles to the nearest waterhole. A baldin’ boogeyman convoy left her unconscious by the roadside. We ran—three little birds (cryin’ and cryin’) . My brother stayed in my head—boogeyman’s body sucking his breath (yellin’ and yellin’) yeah (yellin’ and yellin) .  He’ll live, or I’ll shoot him myself. Death (wow - wow - wow) sprawled like a lizard. Papa (whoo - whoo - whoo) tore off his ankle bracelet and went for the gun. © Sergio A. Ortiz Published in the 2010 February Issue of The Houston Literary Review

The Imagination This chewed sweet and sour garlic / this asymmetric leg of Greta Garbo / this involuntary grotto of silence / this unpublished premonition of a stiff kiss / this anticyclone in the topography of a sigh / this genteel lubricant of bovine orgasms / this kyriopascha obsession of turning the abstract into the concrete. The Words These oblique cartographies / these choral songs with those far-off glints / these cesti gloves from the Forum of Augustus / these small moments of our “visions of paradise.” The Impossible This malnourished duffel bag / this cement stuffed tooth painter/ this resolute algebraic cat / this invisible postcard to the invisible man / this rumble that startles a child’s mouth. © Sergio A. Ortiz first published in Whispers&Screams Magazine,   24 February, 2010 

1. She shares a room with eight strangers. None of them know where to buy money grams. Her face flushes at the grocery store, but she still looks straight into my eyes and asks: Can I walk there? Which way is it? 2. Jobs are scarce, so he eats what he finds in dumpsters near the house, squats on a vacant lot that floods in autumn.   He doesn’t say it, but he’s scared of fever. Knows that if he dies, back home, Juan will stop by the bar and flick quarters in the jukebox. Jose will tell dirty jokes at his wake until four in the morning, while Pedro recounts the story of the irate husband shooting at his naked butt flying over the fence. But here, he doesn’t have a name, he’s constantly cold and unnoticed. 3. She makes it difficult to ignore the wet clothes on a man’s back as he wanders into la migra’s office for a 24-hour stay, or a free jet ride home. She’s too alarmed to remember the two daughters left behind. Umbrellas keep her in the shade while officers bring...

Os cortaron los testículos con fuego, luego insertan la prótesis (un dispositivo de circuito cerrado) esperanzados en captar la deslumbradora panoplia de maricas marchando derechitas hacia la visión del infierno según Rivera Schatz: a Spanish tea party . — ¿ Que es un Spanish tea party ?   —   Yo no sé.   ¡Búscalo en el diccionario urbano! © Sergio A. Ortiz 20 de febrero de 2010

I made all of the arts and crafts in the living room, including the knitted bed cover my nephew is sitting on.