Varios
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Recalentado
Se reproduce,Se ensancha y contagia.Los tuppers vacíos ya,Amanecen llenos.Y de pronto,La perspectiva de un poco más de adobado,De dulce o ponche,Es demasiado. No me extraña,Que el banquete sea solo un día del año.Ah… Hoy cenamos,Bonne année!
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Inmóvil
Un cuarto de libro,Eso duro el instante,En qué el tráfico se dedicó a mirarme. De pronto,Las calles no eran un borrón.Eran autos con personas definidas.Algunas con el cigarillo colgando de los labios.Choferes consultando un pedido, antes de arrancar perdido.¿A dónde moverse?Chicas esperando transporte,Con trencas afelpadas y de osos arrancadas. Y yo esperaba.Porque el libro,Tenía fin y yo miraba.
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Todo cagado
Imposible.Ni un solo centímetro libre.Ah, tú condición urbana,¿Te hizo pensar en un baño?Yo decía el prado.Con ovejas,Nada queda libre de bolitas saltarinas negras.
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Evil?
I am the frozen winter night,behind your window turning you mad.I’m the snow piling up,Atop the mountains’ peaks.About to fall and erase your town. Waiting in danger.I am what makes the dark a lonely sight.The slightly want.I am what makes spring a fertile time.Once death has taken away what might.And you expect. But I can’t give.For I take.
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60 %
A little bit of covert and noon became sunset.(Without the glasses,A blurry ball in front of sun)Beyond, further down or up, (according to your mind frame,space has no address);it must have been a sun ringlet of samba move.And the time regained again its nooness with a frozen wind one could very well despise.For the he sun above was there and there it was the sun.The dark shape on the window spying the birds.The fly buzzing and the silence a moment ago, melted into everyday life.One without ado.
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Retrovisor
No… Hacia atrás no.A la derecha y avanza.Reversa.Un poco torcido y… En el guardabarro,Un arañazo de pintura azul.
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Prickly pear oriole
Falling from the tree,Like rose popurrí.Drops of sound, liquid joy.Rain or luck?Hidden yellow shadow. Yellow?Bright sun encased in black frame.And its song raining.Falling from the tree,Like rose popurrí.
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Carpintero
Tac tac tac.Madera.Tac tac tac.Un ojo negro.Tac tac tac.Revuelo.Tac tac tac.Rojo sobre blanco y gritas desde el encino:¡Humano!
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Whip
Drain the nightThe day arrived.Gone the cold.Melted the frost.Yet I wait again.I know it didn’t go.It never does.It flutters by,Caresses to your recoil and…Zaz! The hit.The whip, the sting.
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Of the things I gave up today
Next year?No.Perhaps if I keep trying?No.Maybe with a little magic?No.Numb, numb and numb.I plan but feel like slumbering.I think I might but feel like getting lost in reading.Why am I even typing?Why the need?Said someone.Why the need?I thought too.Will I be brave enough to face the bumping lights?Or am I coward enough to go on zombying like the last ten years of nothing?Don’t mind me.This is just a drama.
