Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Mulato Criollo dedicado a Luis Fortu ñ o No es solo el pequeño oasis de justicia — rendija por donde nadie ha pasado — sino la banda totalitaria de una revolución cultural indigna lo que despierta el rechazo. Rey Midas — mulato criollo decidido a convertir su sue ñ o absolutista en el retroceso del Caribe, izquierda o derecha en todos los frentes.

Blue Delight - Gogyohka poem On this blue November   morn I woke up   with a crown riding a stallion up boulevard St-Germain. My mouth was between your legs and trees grew in the orchard you never tend. The gift of sight was cause enough for delight as I sat watching dawn pour in my bedroom.

Gogyohka poem v Your legs are wide open; a night of unfinished buses crashing on a golf course. I close my eyes frightened of the empty beer cans, packed in that locked closet. Between one chapter   and the next   a summer breeze and a winter storm circle each other.

Gogyohka poem iv Night fog is over. Set aside garlands, rum, and drums. Prepare coconut kisses, tighten the farewell sash.  

Gogyohka poem iii The visions have returned— without threads or needles, only the echo   of poetic voices— my dead are restless.

Gogyohka i en Español Primero te vuelcas a mí luego te vuelves a él, ¡Calla amor! ¿Qué se siente  aprender a mentir?

Gogyohka ii lover, murmur when you’re distant from the formula of your conceited pride. give me those minutes.

No one, I was alone, Alone painting dusk And dawn. Hush lover, hush.

Price: $8.00 Ships in 3–5 business days In this new chapbook, poet Sergio Ortiz writes about the postmodern spaces of displacement between the here and there, sleep and death, living like a fugitive on our skin. The poems recount, with great strength, the pain felt and left by all that was stolen, or lost in the narrator's life experience. He has finally resolved to enjoy his sexuality with all the consequences this resolve might bring. http://stores.lulu.com/flutterpress

Intimate ii Eve the pure The merest mere  Eve the clock  The curled hair Wet lips         Painted  Rocinante* Eve the foreskin hurriedly running  Toward her lady image Nothing more profound than a stuffed Harlequin with silk nipples  Sniffing out her  Mio Cid Eve the warrior  ~~~~~ *Rocinante was El Cid’s horse in the epic poem The Lay of the Cid, it is a pun in Spanish and it means "work horse"

Poems up at Psychic Meatloaf - Journal of Contemporary Poetry http://www.psychicmeatloaf.com/Issue%202a.htm

Intima  Eva la pura La mera-mera Eva reloj Rizos Labios mojados Pintados de Rocinante  Eva prepucio, corriendo grave Queriendo ser señora Pero nada es más profundo que ser Muñeca rellena

Three poems up at Vox Humana Lit: http://voxhumana-lit.com/?page_id=534 This is a Journal coming out of Israel. www.voxhumana-books.com “eclectic literature with a “human voice” www.voxhumana-lit.com www.voxhumana-blogs.com www.kindlegoodread.com

Poem up at Fried Eye  Stop by and read one of the best journals coming out of India.

Tequila Blue sleep accomplish your dream between the spaces of the mirror conscious of your accent as it repeats itself   like a coconut branch in the high tide  of voices 

Sorcerer let's loot this autumn night   hide it in the mind’s eye

Herbario ii Eres un verso que va hacia el alba bailando con mis cabellos         una noche de herbarios y ruidos         un amante a la luz de un puerto perdido         oscilando con el viento Eres un verso mudo que se enrosca como la ira en mis dedos          el alma de una pavo vieja callada          observando desde el parque comprimido          las narices aplastadas          de los niños sobre cristal opaco Eres un viajante de jardines          que abre mi herbario riendo Herbarium ii You are a verse that goes toward dawn dancing with my hair             a night of herbariums and noises      ...

Salome El aroma a tu m á s o menos cuerpo desnudo en est a ciudad donde reencarno gris libre  sin luna o gobierno ocluye el deseo a saborear tu cabeza en bandeja de plata Dear John The fragrance of your more or less naked body in the city where I reincarnate gray free without moon or government occludes the desire to savor your head  on a silver tray