intonations of the bizarre



the cliff of a perfume
without warning
shattering my glass of mindlessness
awake at a bridge

caterpillar of eyes in a crowd
dragging the body of time to nowhere

the grass grows like punks from the cathedral

the tattoo was arrested
from the cadence of her breasts

the oblique sunlight was lighting up
his face like a field of camels
a wealth of lifelong wayfaring

the extinct tribes are hidden in Berlin
where a sprinkle of immesurabilitttty
is part of any local


sketches in disguise

Sketch Cubist Man

(old sketch from 2007 - Pablo Saborio -)


the analysis of answers
only oceans in the pocket of silence

the tapping of grave thunderous black keys
being nothing but drips of red soul

to hold hands with a concatenation of winds
born from the music of immeasurable pasts

something has reached high and deep
like the chalk of an artist

drawing shades and swirls
like empty names of

Poetry 2011

máscara y enigma

Mascara enigma

He puesto una larga mirada
a la resolución de la máscara
atado ando como por brazos de siglos
un secreto espiral hace noche de mi razón –
el espíritu recóndito expulsado de su frente
parece llegar a la cumbre de una antigüedad;
esta máscara que espío desde el asiento de
mi soledad,
alzo humos entre los torbellinos del tiempo
algo infinito crece como olor entre sus gestos,
con sus manos de vino blanco me acaricia el deseo
de hierro mis horizontes se duermen;
aquí hay fondo tras fondo
hundimiento sin calidad de movimiento,
veo desde los ojos ecuánimes de la sombra
mi destino de máscara, cubriendo con tez
el enigma del vacío.

Poesia Moderna

about a girl

About a girl

Since she had lost
all crystals and ponds in her eyes
I had reason to believe
that a furious cobweb
had adhered to her forehead
as a continent of thistle
rooted in the wasteland of her frivolous skin
and yet I’m sure that she was once radiant
as a mirror pointed to the sea,
that once her teeth were rays
piercing through her naturally bitter lips
transforming her semblance
from rock to clouds of summer –
Yes! I had good reason
to suppose that if she were a bed
her springs would pierce out from
the mattress to torture my sleep,
but being still a napkin
her asperity would crack
at the touch of
the first drop
of a kiss.

Poetry 2011


carmine essence clouds

Cumulous figment of joy

the art of white eyes

I sense a bird stretching experience

colonizing an empty nest of laughter

my tongue is ripe with twilight

savoring the underbelly of clouds

their pink veins of magic

the iris coils on expanses of clarity

carmine volumes of essence.




de lo intacto

pétalos sueltos

de la flor
la dimensionalidad

pasaje mío de tierna materia
la carretera de firme escalofrío
sobre la piel de la tierra

cúbica luz de nube
vibratoria ola de ala
el cielo emana
como sueño
de un suspiro

la catedral
de los segundos
surge alta como
una memoria
de lo que fue universo

el movimiento es un pétalo
sumergido en respiración de sombra

dejo los ojos caer
en cualquier ovulo de espacio
y se expande el ambiente
como una gorda filosofía
que examina un par de labios

de la flor
el olor a

y lo crucé
con la tarde.

Poesia Moderna

of illusion

Red eyes

Of the corn
that makes residence
in the wrapping shadow
of time along the bark
of a tree

in the proximity
of approximation
the figure of life
is guesswork

the natural ponds
of objects
resonate as if
driven by the longevity
of clouds

the hand
inventing surface
from the ghosts
of light and edge

in observation
the bread of process
dissipating like smoke
inside the throat
of ravenous eyes.

Poetry 2011