Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

¿Qué tal si me siento? ¡No pierdo más mí tiempo! La distancia entre nosotros   es humo de tren que partió en domingo hacia la nada, imitación ventrílocua de palabras eróticas, laberinto de rejas con alambres de púa enmarcando los pasillos del deseo. Ofreces afeitar mis días mientras mido tus intentos de lamer mis sueños. Pero pisas en falso y te caes antes de estremecer   mi zona intima.

Mi querido Renier llegaste y te fuiste y no sentí nada. Tu cabeza de ónix era del tamaño de una rueda de huso fluyendo sobre mi cuerpo, una pirueta bordando un supernova  en la cúspide de mi imposible ser. Y yo?  Fui detalle emplumado de lo que pudo haber sido y no fue.

¿Cómo de bien conoces América? Viví en su jaula de carnaval como un babuino. Fui liberado con un microchip en el oído, toda mi lucha extinguida. Deje que sus botas aplastaran mi cara en el fango, nadé en su sangre, me senté desnudo sobre las estanterías donde almacena las causas perdidas.

Wind Son They arrived, invaded blood smelling  like wet feathers. You feed fear and loneliness as if they were two small animals lost in the desert. They’re here  to burn  the Age of Sleep . Your life is a constant goodbye. You hold on like a snake that’s only itself when there’s nobody looking. You cry, open the jewelry box  of your desires  and you’re richer than night. But there’s so much isolation that your words commit suicide.

Endless Nights of November I spoke of dead bodies under endless November nights and I waited but nothing happened. I fled without realizing I fled, dates near and far              written on water I swallowed in small sips. Below, a finger, tense, severe, pointing at me from the sea like a domesticated circus bear. I left everything I knew as mine. Days past became shock waves, forms of gloom the future dawns. I’ve seen you look at me five hundred times, but look at me again           upright against noon clarity. I’m not a visitor from the world,  I am the world! I am the north wind tarnished after battering bowed heads of people populated by darkness and death. The lamp’s fire is no more beautiful than the light of a bonfire. I’ve seen thousands of men dumped in a single grave, and flowers b...

Motel Borinquen A condom falls on night’s shadows. Desire lubricates my insides. I’m sedated by your bang hole, the jazz, the cannabis, the nether elite to which I aspire. Come to my dildo manufactured on the streets of Borinquen. This word archeology discovers the bone, the psychic earthquake of reason’s instability and all its caveman connections. The sun falls on the city’s mist, its eye penetrates the hustler’s wallet and the hidden book of Babylon. Insolent amazement dries drunks’ rheum. A beautiful river descends from a stone and travels to the caveman’s ancient foreskin. It is the transfiguration of androgynous men into angels carrying the metaphysics of their pockets in their language. The luxury of their burials conveys the stigma of a leprechaun. Because they made money the final solution…the microcosm of their soul is dead. They’re threatened by the burnished skeleton of a lover and a joke m...

Morning Today I woke with purple eye. The bed sheet covered with bitterness, the horizon dyed your gaze with resentment. It was my prison, my sticky algae refuge, the silence of dead birds. God I love you Gaby! Your hands strange tentacles of islands. Oysters open their eaten shells rock jellyfish and sirens have indigo lips. So much oblivion, so much baseness! A wounded wolf with hemlock penis howled in your brain. It hit the staghorn corals. So much water lily perfume in the swamp inside you. The morning was intoxicating liquor, menstrual delirium. Your sex on top of my tumbling soul defeated. The froth of your mouth, the epilepsy of sound scream: God how I love you! You were the vampire of my night carriage, the dice rolled in red brothels, the subtle emanation of nipples. Next morning your teeth bit my forbidden fruit, walked with tousled hair, wandered the streets of my chalices.  You knew how to...

Binnacle you cannot know navigation not having rowed on a man’s sex shipwrecked, washed up on one of his beaches Anda tidak bisa tahu navigasi takak memiliki dayung pada jenis kelamin laki-laki berkebangasaan, terdampar salah satu pantai nya

Returning to his Body The boy left his cows and came to me, what splendorous rod, how swift and dark his stature, what swollen, slender nudity! My body, my labyrinth, come call, scold, hurt, calm my troubled slits. Find me clinging to your waist orange blossom in my mouth.                         Before my eyes                         a peal of freshness,                         triumphant, passionate confusion                         emerges from his legs. A sound as tender as the wind bl...

First Ceremony You lie a novice on my bed delightful, earthy, mild. You appear to sleep and I’m beside myself when my hands unfold their poverty on your hair. I find you naked, I am myself naked, amazed, a shimmer, wretched, and soft. What can I do blinded and mute. Bewildered? You keep your gaze ferocious, hungry devouring the dark, your sex wet and hurting with the memory of your first ejaculation, your lips no longer in need of the child you were. Your way of being licks me like a dog, a wild horse. Your navel makes my head rotate. I tend my hand towards your thighs and blow by blow they separate, and meet, and turn into a fiery gap in turmoil on the bed sheet. Take me, kneel, and separate, come back, hurtle, howl. All of a sudden you slit my darkness and rain inside me!

Sometimes me,  but always You You love me? Are you listening? Do you love me? The third silence was blunt.  I walked away restless, my sobs desiring to sob.  How much more do I need to stop needing? What if we sleep together? Should we talk about something else? It’s cold outside, maybe you should wear a scarf to cover your distant eyes.

My Earthly Goods They closed the park and paved the lawn. I don’t have more than what my pockets can hold, a couple of avocados, lemons, a kitten with no owner, and so many kisses for you… Who at the end of the day all you have are blisters, a mild winter that does not satisfy your longing, and me, and doubts, and who knows what else?

Twilight Body I want to rid myself of this blood depopulate this death undress this face. Open my legs between swollen trees and engender a jungle where desire sprouts blindly. I want to poke my head between the lips of the world pursue the thrashing of my pubis and save myself from me the broken, the incomplete one. I want to be the dawn.

Wake Up Paper Man Wake up and hear my voice! I am your weightless brother hiding in your shadow, a drunk kiss, the nightmare of a god, a spider in heat. I am the nameless beast that follows your footsteps, lethal, absurd. I never believed In your freedom. Worship me in altars made of pitchforks and whips. Wait for me in your dreams, your tears, your anger. I’ll wait for you warm and loving so that together we lower the curtain of blood and skin. Take the hand that awaits you since you lit the first fire and follow your own forgotten darkness.

 This 

 Music 

Paper Man Welcome!  My mountains are shattered look at your kisses stuffed in the gallery welcome to the map of my horizons your nakedness      your laughter pour down on me welcome to my pocket where I keep verses, wisps of echoes of your bodies welcome to my ashtray of hopes where your stem pours its bitter blood and I pay for your hugs with deaf pagan prayers welcome to this garden of houseleeks Paper man locked in his steam cage the servants arrive with golden trays as he hides in the corner and moans I heard your rain voice on my paper streets and all I could do was smile while the ink dripped blackening my heavy feet. In our conversation, we pretended the casual existed in a wall of salt. I kissed the salt and here I am with thirst, tense, muddy in my absurd size. Stay with me while I dissolve with tears, saliva, sweat, our painful distance. The salt wall closes and the paper...

If you come to see me  at nightfall at the hour of my magical fatigue and you hold me in your arms make me recall the flavors of your mouth, the echoes of your footsteps the source of your laughter, your kisses… if you come when I’m handsome and wild and my lips are utter sweetness and they’re made of red silk and they laugh and sing when my mouth is as full as nail in the sun when I close my eyes because they’re so heavy with desire I won’t            know              what to           do! 

A Barren Wilderness He fills my chest   with a sorcerer’s charm, the thrill of painful things. There are bougainvilleas   under the burnt heather. What I bring inside? Hallucinations, murmuring voices. a fallen pallium, the gold on my coat of arms stripped and I’m no longer love. I’m barren rue in bloom.