Sinks in a little deeper

each day slowly dipping

from hanging rings.

The more I train this muscle

the less it hurts to shoulder

a perfect split.

Merciless hour glass ran out of fucks

fresh out of time knocked the wind off my lungs

flawed execution by classical measure

o h ,   b u t   t h e   b o n e s   !

count themselves and their blessings.


Took a bunch of pills woke up soaking wet

a perfect saturated circle under me

so perfect this shadow, how?

bedspread darkened with sweat

the fabric which clothed me, dry as wry

don’t even know what I meant

don’t even think that it meant     anything

«God is the sweat running down his back,

the water soaked her blonde hair black»

I think about that,


Perhaps I sweated out all color

or slashed the walls of the world with all my clawing

and color slowly drained out


Yes, I’ve sweated out all color       feasibly in passion

but this embarrassing hue

striking against the grey.


Twenty five years a teen

so much you ask of me

«would that I could»

age out of wanting you

like I did at thirteen

foreseeable routine

to covet those who’ve misaligned themselves to me

stripping me only for parts they need

that I happily part with

as if I had no value no value

no value at all.

Train’s a-coming, you know

if we won’t meet, I should board

but you stay on your side

I let thunder roll by

we stare each other down

we each mouth something but it hits the ground.

Ejercicio: -1

Quiebra en mi pecho la ampolleta 

que entraña la vileza de anhelar 

empantana mis tripas

descalcifica mis huesos 

desbasta mi piel desde adentro

y desviste el recorrido de mi sangre




refugios que ya no existen 

dos tajos para trasegar

a un recipiente libre de afectos.

Ejercicio: +1

Téjeme a ti

con cada pelo de tu cuerpo

Enrama tus costillas

en las mías

perfora nuevamente

mis viejas cicatrices

que de nada sirven

si ya no recuerdan

Haz de mi algo monstruoso

que sepa y huela a ti

que brota y vuelve a ti.


Creo que puedo.

Creo que puedo.

De crear,

de creer.

Échate, una última vez

y derrama mi fortuna.

Procuro no guardarla

en la punta de la lengua

en la yema de los dedos

“esto también pasará”.

Échate como la suerte,

boca arriba.


Mírame bien.

No tengo miedo.

Es solo otra pequeña muerte

de las muchas que hay.

Estacionalidad / Luto

Todos los días piso las hojas que no he barrido

si hemos llorado                  el cielo y yo

las más ennegrecidas resbalan amargas

empapadas de recuerdo      deshechas

bajo mis pies

la fruta picada

por aves           podrida

no recogeré

ni mañana           ni ayer

no he barrido las hojas ni lo haré

la cara muerta de estar vivo

se lava sola           de lluvia

y seguimos           de pie

este cielo sufre mucho y llora poco

un minuto de silencio

será más largo aquí.


No existe envidia en la naturaleza

si es preciso

es injusta

y vuelve a empezar

ensaya sin luto un nuevo sol

que solo hará sombra de algunos

quizá por última vez.

Envidia siento

fuera del orden natural.


The very first time we met he took me by the hand in the dark

The world poured back and forth between our eyes, too

poorly-lighted, once or twice

Led me through dim rooms

corridors patio now back

rooms left-to-right office to bed-

room gingerly holding my fingers

pulling my hand to where light was

Still love that moment the softest

the opposite of blindness, a gesture

a kindred I instinctively knew

through the tips of my fingers alone

Time changes most but not all

things. I know through it all this keeps true

Even if we fall out

Even in the end

Even as we pack

For I know blindness of all things

and this was razor-sharp.

With both eyes

A mimicked gesture

is the purview of children

however inaccurate

intent is celebrated

I too hurled my whole heart at

wrong pantomime

to great reviews

I search for the memory

of this warm un•failing

never to be felt again.