orígenes

poemas_nihilistas

En gran época
había mitad de misterio
en la voz del respiro;

la luz como canto
salía del ojo y mirábamos
el frío hacer remolinos
en las colinas del monte;

al aire nocturno el mundo
no tenía características
pues era un viaje negro
exhibiéndose en el olvido;

quién recuerda esa tierra
acostada sobre el tiempo
erigiendo sus penas de piedra,

                        sus mares de tristeza.

Poesía Contemporánea

black curve and edge

drunk

At that bar
Sadness
Was there.

Like smoke this night
as opulent
as a disguise of pure
phantom with the smell
of that guy
that was weird and touching
women.

I went out
part of things
and little
essence

drank
like a puppet
a whole morsel
of crumbs in
a pocket

an idiot
with ideas
and I was
thinking how
much I paid
for that drink

seriously
a long pause

quote “ death is not, to be considered a transition to a state completely new and foreign to us, but rather a return to one originally our own from which life has been only a brief absence. ‘”

basically he
smelled like
burnt almonds

and somewhat scared
and sacred

the air like petal was woman
in my arms
the love
of invisible.

Contemporary Poetry

campo de perfil

poesia_moderna_2013

qué duro labio habla la vida
qué fuerte impulso pega la vida
qué fuego cansado quema la vida

miro afuera
de mi rincón

olvido el eterno colocho de noche

y un poco de estrellas
tibias
en el margen de mi ojo.

Poesía Contemporánea

and the emptiness of

poetry of despair 2013

A weak wind
being bent as silent structure
on the margin of the hours
by the beach
a walk through the empire of rock

after death

love sits
with legs cold
and the storm of the sand

every crash
is wrath
looped in symbol

of being alone
with others
older in the corner
of mosaic

mystery is a heavy mist
pounded on our eyes

love sits
with cold legs
and the emptiness of the sand

those fingers
to carve in the skin of this earth
the folded name;

the forgotten
labyrinth of him.

Contemporary Poetry

este otoño aluciné

poesía_otoño_2013

Hoy aluciné
ser caracol tibio alrededor
calcio quién átomo anda

algo iba
haciendo lenta la luz
hasta que la sangre

siendo azul
daba contra la carne

como un cielo alguno colmado
de humo mañanero,

empecé a podrir
y a ver las                             palabras

moverse como lombrices 
en rincón ilógico de ansia 

espantado la hoja amarilla
del ojo se cayó caía cayendo
al murió del ritmo

en este otoño

aluciné
después del fuego hondo
ante un pañuelo de pus

                        en este otoño
                         partí la sed
                         y casí como sombra.

Poesía Contemporánea

rockn’roll

dream_poetry

I paid
and he asks
how I’ve been
he left a shapeless mass of laughter
in the air
I’ve had a hangover for days
he says: rockn’roll
yeah it hurts
and the hard Furies strangle
each idea with a whip of flame
and in that throb
one must find a quartz
of moonlight under a window
and breathe in an avalanche
and heed the noise
dripping from the tiny tick
of the heart

sharply
the eyes begin
by the sway
of a moon drawn by wings
to sleep

and here
skirting a crater
at the roof of a boundary
I am
washed by a beam of music
pocketing the fog
and perfuming the worn rags of clouds
like in fable
or inside a final
visit.



Contemporary Poetry