Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

deleted

pizza delivery... he knocks on my door just about now

Skylark She waits for the early morning mist to cover the valley— the flower of tranquility. Her arms full of a timid light weight down the air as the western stars begin to fade into a trail of broken hearts.

skylark on a rose branch— petals descend in whispers

dressed this is the day the blind view the moon the night we bite on silk peach petals and walk hand in hand into the fire with the aroma of coffee zigzagging   around our noses like fine art this is the day of the catamaran sailing on open sea while we laugh at the wind fearless of consequence the first day we cover our bodies with clothes

rivers flood… taking refuge in my bed

ríos se desbordan pero siguen las rutinas hilo de luna

hollowed gourd…  the scent of roses  lingers 

the paper blades go back a forth between sisters... each adds a line in their secret language on Snow Flower's fan

Snow Flower’s fan the secret language of love between old-sames

stormy night Van Morrison’s  Madame George  on the radio

day after day the brewing of coffee … tired of the city

I Have Continued Regardless Each day demands we create the world over. I leave the apartment walk over to the elevator, it arrives, I get in, join one person with old eyes and the smell of piss. I hate it.   I get off at the lobby look for entrance and walk out the building towards the coffee shop. Old imperfections cross my mind.   The dirty dishes in the sink, the empty refrigerator, the pills I did not forget to take. As I walk away from the apartment I look back, flames are rising from the windows of the 14 th floor.   I decide to have breakfast. It is now about 98 degrees on a hot Monday morning in July exactly three years from yesterday.

Es el temor de enfrentarme a mi mismo. Es la palabra que escucho y me describe. Es el relámpago de una mente ruin, el día de la danza del fuego comenzó. 

Suicide Broken, yes, my spirit is broken, words no longer flow with ease.   Death courts me insistently. Lays its head on my lap and says:   Drink these pills. I resist because dreams surround my heart.   But I am weakened by its mystery, its charming voice:   it is better in the long run.   There will be no more pain.

cuckoo in a bamboo forest lawlessness

my voice in a winter wind— nickels and dimes

mounting violence the police superintendent doesn’t know his job