Splint[er]

Timeless memory

Eye

Splint

Eye

Nail

Eye

Needle

Fork

Knife

Eye

Blood

Mouth

Eye

Heat

Pain

Pain

Blood

Blindness

Thirst

Tears

Fork

Needle

Knife

Hammer

Nightmare

Calm

Nothing

Needle

Eye

Splint

Eye

Splint

Eye

Eye

Needle

Needle

 

Portrait

Timeless memory

Starting backwards

every chance

takes us

here

our dreams

were not enough

Nor were

the suppression

of our feelings

the rise of

our impulse

the constant

challenge of

deception-

-self decay

our desire to

sit above at

the end, you and me

senseless gargoyles

starring at the

still-present

holding our

marble hands

together

while the wound

we share

tears us apart

with a piece of each

other

carved with

flesh

hanging out

the frame at our

living room

 

Hope

Timeless memory

For every dead leaf

I give a bloom

For every departure

I blossom

For every twig

I have a sprout

For every desert

I have a garden

Every hole

I fill with grace

Every pain, every tear

I turn them into

Water

And heal

Every night

A fire star

Every pause

A chant

Laments, solitude

A burst of laughter

A banquet

A baptism

Every death

Is the scream

of a multiple

birth

Fertile soil

for the dust

of your departure

While you bury

your corps

in sand

I’m a torrent

of new flowers

fragrant mud

and a renovated

soul

While you are forgotten

I germinate in

A thousand memories

That haven’t been

Born yet

Your music stops

And my life begins

The last caress of

My time

Made your grave to fade

In replacement

The first stone of

A future

Without you.

 

Love is to die:: dance

Timeless memory

Bald morning

Timeless memory

Run raw rose

Timeless memory

Shape

Timeless memory

Red cream

Timeless memory

Wall

Timeless memory

Sutck inside a cloud

Timeless memory

BS # 1

Timeless memory
& Bitches

I'VE NOT GIVEN A SHIT
WHEN I MUST
BUT I DO NOW
WHEN I MUST NOT
I'VE HEARD A MILLION VOICES
MAYBE JUST THREE OF 'EM
INTELLIGIBLE
AND ONLY ONE
WITH A SOLID POINT:
WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?
YES, PROBABLY MY VOICE
BUT IT STOPPED THERE
IT'S ON NOW, I AIN'T STOP NOW
I FEEL SOMETHING BIG COMING
I KNOW AS CLEAR AS THE CLAMOR
OF MY CONSCIENCE
THAT SOMETHING IS GONNA HAPPEN
SOON
AND FOR THAT ONE
I DON'T CARE
I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT
THE FUTURE OF MY SPECULATIONS
BUT I DO CARE THOUGH
THAT ONE DAY
I FINALLY GET TO CARE
FOR SOMETHING REAL 

The fucking F word

Timeless memory
& Bitches

I WAS THINKING
WHILE TAKING A SHOWER
SO YOU THINK I'M A FEMINIST
WELL GOD DAMN
I FUCKING AM
AND I TELL YOU WHY
BECAUSE I WANT A DICK BETWEEN MY LEGS
INSIDE AND OUT
AND YOU WANT ONE TOO
I CAN HAVE MINE HANGING OUT
WEARING A STRAP ON
AND STUCK IT IN IF YOU'RE AWAY
NOW YOU MAN WEAR A FUCKING STRAP ON
AND YOU'LL BE LESS THAN WEIRDO
YOU'LL BE A LOSER
AND A FAG
WILL NEVER HAVE A TWAT
NEVER
SO INSTEAD OF BORING ME WITH YOUR CHEAP
CONFESSION
GET YOUR WHINING ASS A NOTEBOOK
YOU CAN GET ONE FOR FREE IF YOU LOOK HARD ENOUGH
BUT YOU ARE SO CONFUSED AND LAZY
SO GIVE THEN TWO BLOWJOBS
AND GET ALSO A FUCKING PENCIL
AND TELL YOURSELF
WHY THE HELL
ARE YOU SO MISERABLE
THAT NO MATTER WHAT
END UP BLAMING YOURSELF
FOR A FUCKING DICK
AND IF YOU'RE WONDERING WHY
I USE THE F WORD SO MUCH
THEN FUCK MY FUCKING ASS
YOU FUCKWAD

05.22.13

Timeless memory
& Bitches

HE SIDO TUYA
TANTAS Y TANTAS VECES
HE BORDADO UN PUENTE
ENTRE NUESTRAS PLANTAS
CUYO CENTRO
SE HA ROTO
AL BROTAR
LA CELESTRE SANGRE
AL TERMINO
DE UN SUEñO
HE CABALGADO
AFERRADA A LAS RIENDAS
INCOLUMES
DE TU CABELLO
MIENTRAS REBAñOS DE
FUEGO
SE REFUGIAN EN MI VIENTRE

Heather

Timeless memory

Hair like feathers

Soft and delicate

As a quiet

Hermit

red robin

of a deep

sincere

beam of a

clean lake

tall as the

leg

of a dancer

tree

Precise

stillness

fractured spine

reaching to

a cotton sky

 

A song from hon n' bone

Timeless memory
From glitches

 
Look around
then again
is it me ah
when it rains

but slowly
gently
all my rage
is loaded
look at me
get closer


and baby
you can't deny

it's gotta be love
'bet it is
just take a peek
to my eyes
Honey bun
and say it
baby I'm dying for u

it's gotta be true
yes it is
come to my arms
feel it
say it
darling
baby I'm dying for u

look around
does it end?
that's right
it's taking'
forever

up above
there's a glance
divine
so baby now
just give it up
cuss at last
with no remedy


You're meant for me
I'm meant for u
just take a peek
to my eyes
pretty darling
say it
baby I'm dying for u


it's gotta be true
yes it is
come to my arms
feel it
say it
darling
baby I'm dying for u


it's gotta be love
'bet it is
just take a peek
to my eyes
Honey bun
and say it
baby I'm dying for u

Why not having an affair at dangerous times

Timeless memory
From glitches

-Are you having an affair?
_ no, you?
- No, why?
-Then why you asked?
-because I wanted to make sure
-sure about what?
-that we're safe
-and why aren't you?
-look at me, I'm old and tired
-those ain't sound like the right reasons
-They're fair enough, but I'll give you some good damn reasons
first, the disease, for me, you and the whole family. Then the risk of
being raped, hurt, or murdered.
How about stalking, you never know. What if it becomes a psycho
and threats me, you or the family. Then the moral load.
And finally the absurd, but not less poisonous. What if I die or it dies in the act?
What a humiliation.
-OK enough. I believe ya, Jesus, what a drama.
You started with the question for no reason fallowed by a lecture
about nonsense. Just let me finish my coffee and my newspaper,
I don't understand your dynamics, but there's something screwed up
buried in all that shitload you'd just delivered.
Anyway, it is good to know that you're not cheating, that's all.
 

Squirreless road

Timeless memory
From glitches

Always think of a
squirrel
running
climbing
yet
the auburn fur
lays aside
the cars
running faster
than ever
as a sideways
glance
griefs
over
a puffy tail
raising
to heaven
caressed
by a tiny
wind
that might
take
a silent giggle
to the tallest tree
sleep
of acorns
giving birth
to golden
shinny
brown new leafs 

Lunes

Timeless memory
From glitches

Quiero ser tu
con esos kilos menos
la seguridad que te da
la alienacion
con la tes blanca
desentonando
en todas partes
sintiendome dios
creyendo en el talento
la suerte
el destino
incluso
creyendo en el amor
quiero ser alguien
como lo que soy
sin decir nada
y viendolo todo
sabiendo lo que
otros descubriran
en 100 o mas
años
cumplir esas fantasias
que me quitan el
sueño
y ver que no son
lo que en el fuego
aparentan
asquearme
de excesos
tocar fondo
y luego estar
aqui sentada
escribiendo
sobre lo que no sera
hasta que muera
y en medio del
desierto
alguien descubra
este archivo
en un lector
obsoleto
y ria
ria conmigo
y comprenda
lo que todos ignoran
y comience
a soñar conmigo
por los siglos
de los siglos 

Dream

Timeless memory
From glitches

LAST NIGHT I HAD THE MOST TERRIFYING DREAM.
I DREAMED ABOUT A FRIEND. A DECEASED LOVER. EX-LOVER.
HE USED TO RESCUE ME, HELP ME, ADVISE ME. BUT NOT LAST NIGHT. APPARENTLY HE HAD ENOUGH OF BEING MR. NICE GUY AND
HIS DEVOTION TO ME TURNED INTO A RAGING AGGRESSION WITH A KNIFE. HE JUST CUT MY RIGHT THUMB ACKNOWLEDGING
THE POWER OF IT. AND THE POWERLESS I WOULD BECOME WITHOUT IT.
IT'S BEEN HUNTING ME THE WHOLE DAY. WHY SHOULD HE DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT? HE WAS NEVER LIKE THAT, NOT IN REAL LIFE, NOR IN DREAMS.
I'VE BEEN WONDERING ABOUT IT, WAS IT A WARNING? OR JUST SOME KIND OF
JUSTICE AFTER ALL THE REJECTION HE SUFFERED FROM ME?
I DON'T KNOW BUT I HOPE I N EVER, EVER HAVE A DREAM LIKE THAT AGAIN.

06.19.12

Timeless memory

COSAS EN COMÚN

Es curioso como las ideas ahora me llegan en su propio idioma. Y así es como debo escribirlas, porque son tan caprichosas que de no hacerse a su modo, sale todo mal. Pensaba mientras el café caía a gotas dentro de la jarra, en cómo se acordaría de mi alguien en la cocina en el mismo espacio donde estaba yo parada, viendo lo que yo veía: las especias sobre la estufa alineadas en un orden que casi nunca sigo, porque tienen sus temporadas y al cerrarse cada ciclo terminan en un rincón de donde no se mueven hasta la limpieza de primavera y terminan en la basura, o en un lugar privilegiado sobre la estufa junto al salero y dos adornos simples que rara vez desocupan su sitio. Reparaba también en la semiótica de los objetos: junto al teléfono una jarrita de barro, dentro de ella marca textos fluorescentes, plumones negros, lápices de colores sin punta, crayones rotos, plumas sin tapa, un abrecartas y un desarmador. Lo que tienen en común, el ojo del cabrón donde me gustaría enterrarlos. Pensaba también en la lógica de Bukowsky. Cómo resultaba desalentadora su sapiencia bullendo resignada al final de su vida, cómo las palabras en su orden caótico cobraban un sentido letal entre más se acercaba al túnel de la inmortalidad. Los hechos como los concebía, de la idea al papel, o al ordenador en este caso. Pensaba en las experiencias repetitivas que van y vienen como el inicio de una película colectiva. Mi prima Connette y su espontaneidad colérica, graciosa y suicida. En su hijo Ariel, a quien según ella poco le interesan los juguetes recomendados por los pedagogos. Cómo estallaba de emoción con piedras, palos y tierra (sus juguetes preferidos) y como se calmaba viendo una y otra vez los mismos dibujos animados. En su hija Juno, quien pasaba horas practicando gestos y poses frente al espejo, sus arranques y ocurrencias. Cómo deseaba volver a cantar, a manejar, y sobre todo a regresar a su vida de antes donde se sentía libre de fiesta en fiesta y de donde su vida actual la alejaba tristemente. En su marido y sus pleitos diarios, en la violencia que quizá le diera el pase libre a este país y la libertad que tanto añoraba. Pensaba también en las cosas que se me ocurren y nunca escribo porque las ideas no corresponden al esquema mental y así se van acumulando entre proyectos y folios de un archivo inexistente, ahí donde están todas las disculpas, cartas, mentadas de madre, venganzas, placeres, fantasías, arrepentimientos, letargos y todo el futuro que ahora se dibuja como un esquema aún más lejano e imposible. Pensaba en que no importa cuanto limpie la casa, lave la ropa, corte uñas, cepille cabezas, bese, ame y sufra; cuando muera y pase el tiempo todo ese esfuerzo del presente no será ni un recuerdo. No valdrá de nada. Lo mismo da para fines prácticos hacerlo o no. Lo mas cruel y aterrador de la vida es que no importa cuanto logremos o nos estanquemos, no llegaremos jamás a ningún sitio. Literalmente. Eso le da mas sentido al lugar común de que hay que vivir la vida y ser felices. Quizá eso es realmente a lo que venimos para bien o para mal.

05.26.12

Timeless memory
Finally came walking alone. Started fast with a possibility of changing my route in a timid attempt of breaking the rule.
I did it. What the heck. Half hour was agreed so the route could be any.
So I wondered about walking the other side of the road.
Crossed two freeway entrances, then I saw a little of a persecution. That was what I wanted to see, my way to interpret a typical 911 call.
Two police cars in front, two ambulances in the middle, and two more police cars behind.
Kept walking as fast as I could, avoiding the peak of the time.
 Still got time and was thinking to write in an urge to do something meaningful with my ephemeral ideas.
Promised myself to cut procrastination. Cut cigarettes, Facebook, food, sitting my but. Now gotta do my book.
So I was thinking of people's perception while watching me walking: someone frightful, someone atypical, perhaps exotic.
A terrorist or a mild criminal at least.
Definitively not a neighbor. Not even the prolific Indians and Pakistanis. Not even a F**ing Latin. No. Something worse.
A freak. But not a prosaic emo. Not the unadapted teenager. Someone threatening. Anyway, I was thinking about overcome my limit,
but I ain't wanted to push my luck at the first hit.
Wanted to think about a karmic praise for my honesty.
Started feeling sensations life and reality for the first time in four slavish years I've been at Michigan.
Was aware of the birds, the smell of grass and flowers. Then the colors of those flowers, the contrasts, white and green mostly.
Then perceived other pleasant details: The field's depth, that I was in fact walking over a bridge on a memorial day Saturday.
Cars and vans were loaded with desperate men, enthusiastic children, and the hope of riding the boats and bicycles as far as hell.
Then I smelt some increasingly sophistication of fragrances courtesy of mother nature.
I even allowed myself to wonder about getting farther, but I was stopped by the thought of the past,
that I needed maybe a man way more active than me, then I thought about the repercussions of having someone like that,
a perfect man? not even closer, must be way dumber than I am, way more naive and stupid, way healthier too, but still stupid.
I would have to sacrificed my eager pessimism, my intellectual appeal in exchange of ravishing sex after long bicycle strolls.
Every day I think i said. But still sunk in the oblivion. Then  I started thinking about a guy I met that matches that profile and there he was,
with his ideal woman, a dumb gringo, very precise for him , and my response for why didn't I got I guy like that.
Then my expectations fell to the next prospect, not so bad in shape, but with a bold stunk, a heavy psychotic load and an devilish magnetism
reduced to a pair of black glass frames, irritating hair length, and a huge baggage of obscure mystery behind his intriguing figure.
Then the smells reached a peak of density for an ineffable moment until i found myself closer home, then suddenly the smells turned fragile and diffuse,
distant, weak. The closer I got to the suffocating truth, the flower faded into aseptic chlorine from the sterilized pool,
where nobody dare to have any kind of fun. Nothing to do with the pond where occasional lovers in their frugal and nocturne encounters take place.
Nothing like the smell of their sweats melted with mud, fish, humidity, and hot soiled soul blend took arouse of their earth made bodies.
Just acid moms in their salty alkaline smell, in their never changing faces, the flowers overpowered by pesticides and sanitizer,
the soil without seeds, the transgenic
scenario. Not even the possibility of saving the glory of the past 30 minutes of living, because I chose a life in which moments like that happen in days like this,
and the only proof of their existence is telling myself in this file that it was not fiction and that of course, there is more.

07.23.12

Timeless memory
TU RECUERDO ME SIGUE
COMO UN LLANTO VIEJO
SE DESDOBLA
BLANDAMENTE
ACARICIANDO
LA NOSTALGIA
CON SUS PUAS DE ACERO
QUE PENA QUE SEA AHORA
DONDE YA NADA IMPORTA
QUE HE PODIDO
COMPRENDER
UN POCO
LO QUE CON INSISTENCIA
ME CANTABAS
CUALES BRAZOS
EXTENDIDOS
SOBRE TODA
LA DISTANCIA
ERAS QUIZA
MI ULTIMO AMIGO
EN EL MUNDO
LO SIGUES SIENDO
NO CONSIGO LLORAR
NI RABIAR
COMO ANTES
TAMPOCO PUEDO
LLEGAR A LOS
LUGARES
DE TODO SIGNIFICADO
GRACIAS
POR APACIENTAR
MI MAREA
DE FUEGO
EN EL SILENCIO NEGRO
DONDE GIMO EL ESTAR
TAN A ORILLAS DE TODO
NO CIERRES LOS OJOS
SIGUE
LLENANDO DE ALIVIO
ESA HERIDA
CON LA QUE NACI
EXHALA TU PAZ
DONDE MIS NERVIOS
TRATAN DE ALCANZAR
AL CIELO
Y DONDE ESTAS AHORA
JURARIA
QUE ESTAS MAS CERCA
QUE NUNCA
NO HE PODIDO LLORARTE
NI VALORAR
TU AUSENCIA
Y MI AMISTAD
CONTIGO
SIGUE PRESA AQUI
EN TU RECUERDO TAN CLARO
DONDE ME RESPONDES
ANTES DE QUE SURJAN
MIS DUDAS
Y SE QUE SABES
QUE RIO CONTIGO
Y QUE DE ALGUNA MANERA
ESTAMOS
DONDE ALGUNA VEZ SONAMOS
LEJOS
MUY LEJOS
Y QUIZA YA EN OTRA VIDA
ENVEJECEMOS
CON DULZURA
CON O SIN CENIZAS
O TIERRA
SIN FLORES
SIN RAICES
SIN AGUA
BENDITA
SIN RELOJES
NI CAMPANAS
FUERA DE TODA
CERRADURA
MUY AFUERA
DEL CALOR
Y SUS REFLEJOS
MUY DENTRO DEL
PIGMENTO
IRREPETIBLE
DE LAS FACCIONES
CONFUSAS
OSCURAS
LENTAS
AQUI EN MIS DEDOS
TRATANDO DE
ESCUCHARTE

01.22-13

Timeless memory
Que tan real es un recuerdo
enterrado
vivo
tomado con pinzas
y desechado
como un aborto
del que poco se habla
y de pronto
se va olvidando
a veces toca
las mejillas
de su dueño
durante la noche
sin centinelas
duele tanto
al abrir los ojos
que es imposible
no desenterrarlo
y hecha un nervio
la conciencia
y la fe
se le coloca
frente a la boca
y unos brazos
emocionados
aniquilan
cualquier retraso
como matar
un deseo
un corazon
un liston
de carne
del
que se anuda
junto al pasado
todo contacto
con el latir del
pecho
se agolpa la sangre
tras los parpados
y el amor
se vuelve palido
y un dia
sus ojos
con los ojos
despiertan
al mismo tiempo
y la sangre
corre a borbotones
entre risas
aplausos
y un pulso
caliente
los querubines
entre nubes
se alejan
quebrantados
el baculo
del arcangel
tiembla
enfurecido
y que es la
divinidad
el ayuno
y el olvido
en un corazon
nacido
de la yerba
y del
acero de
varios nidos
que es un ojo perenne
contra toda la
historia
y la fuerza
decadente
de mis ojos
encendidos
cuanto puede
temerse a la muerte
al juicio
y al olvido
cuando las
letras de tu nombre
se combinan en mi oido.