oh ego

how could i?

I asks

I asks in shock

in perplexion

while i struggles with the real world

of smells, textures and sensations

I is dissapointed

and confused with the mess i makes in I's idealized world

i forgot what i had to forget to survive the everyday

I held on to what I thought were the right things

so what do i and I do now?

quakes

outside pressures

shake the floor beneath me

every step requires

effort

precision

attention

i dissappear in

expectations

and disappointments

i struggle

to keep balance

en mi

en mi

estoy a salvo de todo

en mi

está todo

en mi

hay sonidos

y silencios

que salvan

y cuidan

en mi

estoy yo

amor e imaginación

el amor sin imaginación no es una imposibilidad

no obstante, se convierte en una mutación

en un bonsai
en un mosaico
en una miniatura del amor que inventa futuros

este amor reducido ocupa solo el presente y apenas la memoria
queda limitado y de raíces cortas

básicamente
sin imaginación
el amor es un amor sintético
que no crece

the others

we come into this world
not by decision
brought into it by the others
raised by the others
seen
talked to
loved
hated
hurt
by the others

yet
we have to be in
count on
trust
rely on
and expect
only from ourselves

perdue

sowhathappenswhenallthatithoughtiwantedidon'tknowifiwantitanymore?

hacer y entonces a ser

la única forma de administrar energías
ya sean rizomas
o sus formas puras
es activamente participando en sus transformaciones

disappearing acts

i talk to Man
whose habit of morphing and taking different shapes
adopting identities, names
showing up unexpectedly in random moments of my life
doing dances
acrobatics
speeches
making promises
and then leaving
has tired me

superego_ego_id

instrospección

en estos días de expedición
armo una casita de campaña
que cubre al corazón
para que no se moje ni se enfríe demasiado
ni se lastime ni se queme
con el sol de esta intemperie brutal
de estos días y noches de vigilia
de criaturas que acechan

de soledad

change

is inevitable

mon silence

mon silence
est, avant tout, le mien

je met dans sa caisse
le chaos
la folie
l'absence du sens

mon silence
c'est un outil
une ressource

a mon silence
ne lui manque pas d'autres choses:
il a besoin seulement de mon manque de mots
et il habite heureusement dans la dimension de langues inconnues

mon silence tue le discours,
il revive ma solitude
mon animal

invernar

quiero invernar

hasta que lleguen tiempos en los que pase el tiempo

en los que no se estanque como un drenaje entaponado

tiempos en los que las cosas fluyan

y no expiren inmóbiles como flores en un macetero

quiero invernar

hasta que lleguen días cortos

y segundos infinitos

hasta que cambie

yo entera

Benedetti no salva

No te quedes inmóvil al borde del camino, no congeles el júbilo no quieras con desganas, no te salves ahora ni nunca, no te salves. No te llenes de calma. No reserves del mundo solo un rincón tranquilo. No dejes caer los párpados pesados como juicios. No te quedes sin labios, no te duermas sin sueño. No te pienses sin sangre, no te juzgues sin tiempo.

Pero si pese a todo no puedes evitarlo y congelas el júbilo y quieres con desgana, y te salvas ahora y te llenas de calma. Y reservas del mundo solo un rincón tranquilo y dejas caer los párpados pesados como juicios y te secas sin labios y te duermes sin sueño y te piensas sin sangre y te juzgas sin tiempo. Y te quedas inmóvil al borde del camino, y te salvas..... entonces.... no te quedes conmigo.

reflejo

como el pequeño martillo que produce una patada involuntaria
un olor
una canción
insinúan el paso del tiempo
y le queda a la memoria el reflejo de la nostalgia

recurso

una palabra escrita
es un silencio de todas formas
es la voz de una memoria sin interlocutor

una palabra escrita
le habla solo a quien la escribe
y como un eco insonoro se reproduce
a si misma
solo como un efecto secundario
solo si alguna otra memoria la apropia
y la desdobla para hacerla suya

una palabra escrita
es solo un recurso
un ejercicio

de soledad

grieves

they leave no room

no gaps

no possibilities

they take over

and occupy

reason

strenght

paitence

they substitute

awareness

for difuse holograms of painful selves

they leave

though

and eventually

subversibly

peace is restored

competition

time and distance engage in a fierce race
to see which can separate me more
from myself

Lao Tsé y La Soledad

No conozco nada y nada me preocupa.
No veo diferencia entre sí y no.
No veo diferencia entre bien y mal.
No temo aquello que la gente teme en la noche.

La gente está feliz como en una fiesta suntuosa
O jugando en el campo en primavera;
Pero yo permanezco tranquilo y vagabundeando,
Como un recién nacido antes de aprender a sonreir,
Solitario, sin hogar.

La gente tiene lo suficiente y para compartir,
Pero yo no poseo nada,
Y mi corazón es ignorante,
turbio y ensombrecido.

La gente está rediante y segura,
Mientras yo sigo ciego y confuso;
La gente es inteligente y sabia,
Mientras permanezco torpe e ignorante,
Sin objetivo, como una ola en la superficie del mar,
Sujeto a nada.

La gente está ocupada con un propósito,
Mientras sigo impractico y tosco.
Estoy aparte del resto de la gente
Todavía sostenido por la Naturaleza.

tangencies

and so...

i conduct my journey

touching

genuinly

briefly

as i go

the curves of other's journeys

somehow

i always end up summing up my adventures alone

and simply grateful

not sorry

for that's what i've been given

i am but a piece in this huge puzzle

nothing more

a tiny piece

that has learned to ride waves

and endure times

i conduct this journey

because that's the only command

so far

I've understood clearly enough

belongings

what i make out
how i remember
how i transform

things

into narratives
into brief chapters
eventful and mostly beautiful

the way in which i interpret
the way in which i travel in memory

what is edited, curated and composed from the rubble of life

is what belongs to me

Remembering Rotterdam

deseo según Lao Tse

Libre de deseo, comprendes el misterio.
Atrapado en el deseo, sólo ves sus manifestaciones.

the nature of truth

true things
await
and observe

true things
don't rush

true things
don't just appear
they are harvested

true things
are simple
and make you happy

true things
are not mysterious
they are just true

tears never dry

when you've done all you can
when you use all your tools
all your ideas
all your efforts
and you simply try to stay on the surface

to withstand

when you've offered options
when you've compromised whatever was needed

when you've reasoned
when you've even stopped expecting altogether

and still it is not enough
for life
for peace

if i cannot save myself
and obviously no one else can help me

then what?

Incomplete by Alanis Morissette

One day I'll find relief
I'll be arrived
And I'll be friend to my friends who know how to be friends
One day I'll be at peace
I'll be enlightened and I'll be married with children and maybe adopt
One day I will be healed
I will gather my wounds forge the end of tragic comedy

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time of being forever incomplete

One day my mind will retreat
And I'll know God
And I'll be constantly one with her night dusk and day
One day I'll be secure
Like the women I see on their thirtieth anniversaries

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time of being forever incomplete

Ever unfolding
Ever expanding
Ever adventurous
And torturous
And never done

One day I will speak freely
I'll be less afraid
And measured outside of my poems and lyrics and art
One day I will be faith-filled
I'll be trusting and spacious authentic and grounded and home

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time of being forever incomplete

once upon a time

when i had hiccups

i was turned upside down

i saw movies

i stayed over

i saw countries

i cooked

i slept

i dreamed

i woke up

productive love

love doesn't just vanish into space

if it is felt

it produces something

even if not said

even if not expressed in any way

if it is felt

it connects

it wishes well

it protects

fantasyland

where there are great coincidences
and all the freaking stars align
and everything happens exactly as one would wish it to

where dreams don't crash and break into unintelligible pieces
where good people get what they deserve
and bad things only happen to bastards

where therapists don't exist
and life is just simple

acceso

hoy hasta las memorias se sienten tan lejos
hay días en los que el desarraigo se hace el protagonista
y el corazón se queda en pelotas
y el estómago se pone a dar patadas voladoras
y a la garganta la molesta un nudito constante
y a la voz se le oye un quiebre leve pero presente
solo porque hay conversaciones
cafés
caminatas
que no pueden hacerse por la distancia

realismo mágico

las cajas de cartón corrugado se erigen
vacías conforman una estructura a la que entro y salgo cada día
que me cubre cuando llueve
y me esconde cuando lloro

duermo allí sobre mi cama compuesta por un montón de rollos de bubble wrap
uno al lado de otro
y pegados con cinta adhesiva ancha de color marrón

otros rollos de bubble wrap (a los que me tienta irles explotando bolita a bolita)
esperan a que los use de sábana cuando entra el friito de navidad

mis cosas están clasificadas
etiquetadas
agrupadas

mis libros
mi ropa
mis recuerdos de algun viaje o alguna exhibición

mi laptop
mis artefactos electrónicos
mis efectos personales

todos esperan
a que termine esta otra transición
entre otros tiempos y los que vienen
grandes, lejos

todos esperan
el próximo
gran
viaje

formas platónicas

una esfera perfecta
un sobrio cuadrado
un ángulo rectángulo

la concisa finitud de un punto en el espacio

o una afinidad intelectual...
o el simple disfrute de una sonrisa.

palmita

boca | beso | sonrisa

figuras 1 | 2

figuras 3 | 4

knowhow

strategic
tactical
persevering
thoughts of beauty

persistent
continuous
wishful
images of days to come

tiny tragedy

a little girl that loved
learned not to

imprint

my skin is witness
my skin is testimony
my skin is hope

foresight

the only link we have with the future is our imagination

terapia para dominicanos

"Yo sé qué horror se vive en esta isla, la violencia que ha generado la injusticia y la soberbia, el racismo y la pasividad con que reaccionamos al infierno, pero lo que nos hace falta es una gran terapia que nos muestre cuán hermosos y buenos somos y de todo lo que nos hemos perdido por no ser más solidarios, trabajadores e inteligentes. Y estas tres palabras son precisamente con las que describiría a los dominicanos de la diáspora, quienes a mi entender son parte de esta terapia necesaria, porque gracias a la distancia han aprendido a ser otra cosa y esta cosa es digna."

Rita Indiana Hernández
Fragmento de la entrevista que le hiciera Carmen Imbert Brugal para Mujer Unica (agosto 2009)

visita

Te acercas y te paseas con una coreografía sinuosa

A veces me rozan tus tentáculos que parecen flotar en la líquida atmósfera que traes

¿Te quedas o te vas, soledad?

monologue | monólogo

here no news will arrive

there won't be no casual comments that I will hear by mistake

here

there won't be any shadows other than those I project myself

nor any traces left by accident that I could run into

here there are no memories attached to anything

here there are no threads hanging to no cracks

no coincidences

no misplacing

here pretexts won't appear everywhere

here there won't even be anyone who could understand

that here

if i remember you

it's because i decide to

...

aqui no van a llegar noticias

no habrán comentarios al aire hechos por nadie que oiré por error

aqui

no habrán sombras más que las que yo misma proyecto

ni rastros dejados por accidente con los que tropezaré

aqui no hay memorias adheridas a nada

aqui no hay ninguna hilacha que se aferre a ninguna hendidura

ninguna coincidencia

ninguna traspapelación

aqui no aparecerán pretextos por donde quiera

aqui ni siquiera habrán quienes entiendan

que aqui

si te recuerdo

es porque lo decido

cupcake

what happened?

while juggling with daily distractions
I conciliate a sense of loss with my lack of direction

I think this story has officially entered the realm of tragedies

'Quisiera Saber' por Pedro Guerra

Del sol sólo sé que es de luz y fuego
del mar que al final se convierte en hielo
no puedo entender la guerra y las cruces

Del pan sólo sé que lo amasa el trigo
y sé que en el bosque hay un ciervo herido
quisiera saber cuándo no se sufre

Yo sé que la luna no da la cara
y sé que el presente ayer fue mañana
yo sé que que al final solo quedan huesos
y se que en los ojos vive el misterio
quisiera saber cuándo no se sufre
cuándo no se sufre

De Dios sólo sé que ha llegado tarde
y sé que el papel si lo prendes arde
no puedo entender la ciudad sin luces

Yo sé que la lluvia lo moja todo
y sé que no hay vida en un cuerpo solo
quisiera saber cuándo no se sufre

Yo sé que la luna no da la cara
y sé que el presente ayer fue mañana
yo sé que que al final solo quedan huesos
y se que en los ojos vive el misterio
quisiera saber cuándo no se sufre
cuándo no se sufre

Yo sé que el invierno es un árbol muerto
y sé que la vida es un algo incierto
quisiera saber cuándo no se sufre
cuándo no se sufre

I come from there by Mahmoud Darwish

I come from there and I have memories

Born as mortals are, I have a mother

And a house with many windows,

I have brothers, friends,

And a prison cell with a cold window.

Mine is the wave, snatched by sea-gulls,

I have my own view,

And an extra blade of grass.

Mine is the moon at the far edge of the words,

And the bounty of birds,

And the immortal olive tree.

I walked this land before the swords

Turned its living body into a laden table.

I come from there. I render the sky unto her mother

When the sky weeps for her mother.

And I weep to make myself known

To a returning cloud.

I learnt all the words worthy of the court of blood

So that I could break the rule.

I learnt all the words and broke them up

To make a single word: Home

séver la

las escalas no importan

todo se invierte

de alante o atrás

o de atrás a más atrás

todo se corrompe

en estos momentos de breves estabilidades

de torpes espejismos de continuidad

aún lo único que quede sea la anestecia de la costumbre

o lo cotidiano

al final (al principio y al medio también)

todo se rompe

todo se va

function

i battle my own demons

in my rooms i concede them each a dance

no more guests needed

them

and me

we complete the necessary crowd

semblance

Golden Calf | Damien Hirst | 2008

sold at Sotheby's in London for the GBP equivalent of twenty two million dollars

amor es

una cadena

una secuencia de piezas que se conectan unas a través de otras

una serie interminable

un circuito abierto de sentimientos perdidos

un exceso

un acto

un salto

de unos y otros

de unos a otros

que se rosan

y se unen

y se rompen

es una serie interminable de corazones en fila

que se esperan

cada uno al que le sigue

tarde de infortunio

Una tarde, vinieron tres pequeñas criaturas enviadas por el infortunio y acamparon junto a mi corazón. Allí, decidieron cortarlo de manera irregular en esa misma cantidad de partes.  Cada criatura decidió llevarse su latente tercio a los confines lejanos de la dimensión que habitan. Lejos una de otra, las partes no logran conciliar sentimientos sencillos como de costumbre y se cansan de emitir latidos que se pierden a la merced de las criaturas, quienes distraídas, no recuerdan regresarlas a mi pecho.

wish 1

autismo

primeramente voluntario

solo miro dentro

y dentro quiero algunas cosas

las quiero hoy a esta hora

y solo hoy a esta hora, por hoy, importa

hoy, a esta hora, quiero algunas cosas

y en este idioma es en el que digo

y en este idioma es en el que siento

que sólo esas cosas importan

por hoy, por ahora

 

scenarios

one is a construction of back-turning-time alter realities

full of

small and simple possibilities

small and simple dreams of what should (ve) be(en)

small and simple 

small and simple, I say to myself

where are you? I ask

well, i could ask... i mean

I mean

I mean, I miss

one of my parts

So yeah, there's one in which I don't

in which I am whole 

three years ago

no less

no more

the three-years-ago-version-of-me scenario

is the one where i restart stories

and re-arrange chapters 

but then 

i guess the last and best one is the jump into madness

with some of my things

oceans and continents breached

and i decide for the craziest idea

and i choose between the happy|happier and

unlikeliest

absurdest

impossiblest

happiest of all 

endings

Open Eyes

-1-

Open eyes. Dark space. No place. Silence and in-gravity. A-temporality and no limits. Sporadic lights in arbitrary intervals. Indistinct flashes.

The body. The action of floating. Anesthetic feeling. Glance to the void. Consciousness of being alone.

 Head and feet as the only reference of up and down. Right hand. Left hand. Back. A voice. Emission of a sound. Possibility of speech and sound.

Closed eyes. For one second or a century. Impossibility of determining that.

 Open yes. Feeling of being pulled by a force. Need of keeping balance. Feet. Contact with a surface under them.

 Light. One and coming from a door. Need of going through it.  One step. A walk. Before and after the blink-lapse: a new reference of time.

 The door: a possibility.

-2-

Pause. Hesitation. Fear? Impossibility of distinguishing between one feeling and the other. Heart beats. Increase of intensity and frequency.

 Calm. Closeness to the moment of going through the door. New agitation. Light. Left foot. Opposite side of the door. Right foot. Last step.

-3-

Descent. Speed. Vertigo. Ground. Imminence. Panic. Waking up.

-4-

Air. Profound aspiration. Profuse sweating. Loneliness. Search. Switch. Light. Tears. Face. Residual anguish. Relief. Relief? Being awake. Awake and alone.

Mirror. Bed. Window. Doors. Sheets. Humidity. Sound. Television. Static. Button. Off.

 Bare feet. Fridge. Water.

-5-

-Hello?

-Again

-What time is it?

-No idea. That dream again.

-It’s 3 in the morning…

-I didn’t want to wake you up, but every time the feeling is more real. Sometimes I think I won’t cross the door

-Go to sleep. You will cross. Maybe you won’t even have to decide again. Just think of a naked woman and you won’t have any troubles with Morpheus.

-I don’t appreciate your insensibility

-It is not insensibility, I am tired and sleepy. Listen, let’s talk at noon, we eat something and you tell me all about it

-Ok

 -6-

Watch. 1:00 pm. Coffee place. People. Small round tables. Waiting. Watch. 1:01 pm. Waiting. 1:03 pm. Only 3 minutes? Feeling of having waited for longer.

Salt shaker. Rice grains. Memory. Mom, why is there rice in the salt? So that it doesn’t turn into a mass and it can go through the little holes.

-Sorry!

-It doesn’t matter (lie)

-Traffic…

-Ok, ok

-So(now sitting down), tell me, why do you think that next time you won’t cross the door?

-Not only I hesitated, this time I felt fear

-Yes, but you crossed, right?

-I have told you already that I am almost sure that if I don’t cross then I stay there and I don’t come back. I won’t see you again, I would just stay floating…

-Hey listen, don’t go crazy, in one way or the other you would wake up. You were the one who assumed that the door is the only link to reality and that the fall is a way to reborn… no? or re-incarnate… or, what was it?

-Yeah yeah, that

-Well, the point is that I have told you many times that all that you control. The door, the “in-gravity”… all that

-I hate when you do that little gesture as if quotation  marks…

-Yeah yeah, I know. By the way, the only thing that worries you is that you won’t see me again? My God! That’s funny… me?

-It was an example. It is not the “only” thing that worries me

-See how useful the manual quotation marks are?

-You’re incapable of understanding an irony

-Of course I am, the thing is that they make me laugh. Do we order? I’m hungry…

 -7-

Apartment. Loneliness. Voice.

-What if I don’t sleep?

 -8-

-Hello?

-Lena…

-Tell me

- You busy?

-Sort of, but tell me

-What if I don’t sleep?

-Pills again? Where do you get all that?

-No, no… no pills. What if I can stay awake forever. You said I control everything.

-Yes, Claudio, but only inside the dream…

-9-

Sneeze. Impossibility of containing it. Possible allergy. Dusty couch. Small TV. Video tape. infomercial about schizophrenia. Teenagers. Stupid conversation. Fucked up waiting lounge.

Impatience.

-Next!

Small hallways. Office. Dusty couch (another one). Notes. Of what?

-So… still the recurrent dreams

-THE recurrent dream. It’s the same one.

-Yes… in this dream, are you naked?

Stupid question.

 

-mmm… I don’t know

-You don’t know?

-Doctor, I’ve already told you that is consciousness of being, not necessarily physically being. In the dream I have consciousness of my eyes and I see through them but it’s only that, I haven’t touched them or seen them from outside.

 

Notes.

 

-So, you don’t feel naked

 

Bother. Right conclusion.

 

-Well no, though I could equally be physically naked, but no, I don’t feel it

 

Notes.

 

-So, you’re floating?

-You can say so, yes

-And… there’s a door..

-Yes, but only at one point

-And you go out…

-Or in… that’s relative

-So you’re out

-No! I don’t know! It’s not in or out!

 

Notes. Notes. Notes. Pause. Notes.

Notepad. Floor. Red hand. Abrupt exit. 

-10- 

Little stone. Window. Lena. Her face. Some calm.

-Claudio, you can knock, don’t you think?

-Come down

-Ok, I’ coming

 

Waiting. Impatience.

 

-Tell me… and give me one (sitting on the front door)

-Lena, I can’t stand this

-What? (exhaling smoke into the air)

-I think that I will fall asleep any time now

-How long have you gone on like this?

-I lost track

-So go to sleep

-Lena, I won’t cross

-Claudio, I think that you decided that and that’s why you’re afraid

-No, I know I won’t cross

Lena’s eyes. Glance. Lena’s hand. Claudio’s hair. In his hand, the softness of the hair.  In Claudio, the feeling of complete wellbeing. A kiss. Cheek. Another kiss. Lips.

-Claudio, don’t be afraid, I always have this same dream every night… and in the end I always cross the door.

carols

my heart hums

i let it

i let it sing a little

of joys

of confidence

my mind makes short hymns

brief compositions for promise

for precious things

not far gone

not idealized

not imagined

but tactually here

by my side

defenses

mind is on it

heart joins accordingly

health will reinstall itself

strength will win the battles

the virtual

and the corporeal ones

anger management

deep breaths

in the name of saneness

patience

to the rescue from absurdity

tolerance with a limit

for reason's sake

'cause

what would there be left

otherwise?

canvas

sobre la mesa

mis cartas, una colección confusa 

de secuencias numéricas y símbolos medievales

un juego legendario

en el que no quiero

no puedo

sacar tantas cuentas

una vida con leves inclinaciones hedonistas

como la de todos

no tiene que dar explicaciones

ultra

supra

mega

morales

es algo sencillo

simple

mio

y ya

memory

parallel to the everyday

a constant slideshow 

of past afternoons 

of rainy windows elsewhere

of a well being now floating directionless

of smells

of a small kitchen

of a sense of belonging

of little pains 

of big questions

a constant movie

playing in the background of my thoughts

of instants 

long

short

important

now lost

last resort

when all that is left

is a vague hope 

that words will curate memory and imagination

when metaphors are the only passage

to sense 

to acceptance

when love and beauty

retreat into disbelief 

yes...

poetry is the last resort

ships

with all they brought

and all I kept inside them

friend-ship

companion-ship

sink

traces

like little crumbs

all around

i find traces of loves

each trying

infinitely 

to make sense individually

to whisper to me in ultrasound

the bignesses they once used to be part of

and I hear them

in their oblivious longing

and I cry a little

for each one

regalo

como regás el agua a las plantas

al amor,  regalo 

la orden de las haditas i

la orden de las haditas ii

longing

asi de bueno

Una tarde que caminemos lado a lado, me dirás que siempre te ha gustado el olor del agua salada que se le adhiere a las brisas de marzo.  Esa misma tarde, decidiremos ir a ver una película al cine y pensarás, como cada vez que hagamos salidas nocturnas, que no te hace falta más nada en la vida.

Yo pensaré en cosas parecidas y me secaré discretamente una lágrima que se escabuirá de mi ojo izquierdo durante la película.  

El vino en casa nos pondrá a desear como los primeros días y así nos iremos a esperar la madrugada sin dormir. Para ese entonces ya no pensaremos en esas cosas como privilegios y comodamente nos aburriremos y nos reiremos juntos otro día cualquiera.

nostalgy

for the things I've lost
for the things that never were
for outdated dreams that linger like friendly ghosts
small
harmless

for the details now erased
for the closeness now gone

for another me
that was and is no more

música al rescate

otro piano... pero no solo
este sube a la mañana de categoría
Keane pregunta si alguien puede encontralos en casa

sonidos e ideas sintetizados llegan a mi isla

y me (con)mueven
y me calman.

obrera

conserva

cuadernito 1

cuadernito 2

cuadernito 3

until they say me

"I must go on; I can't go on; I must go on; I must say words as long as there are words, I must say them until they find me, until they say me..."

Samuel Beckett, The Unnameable

i don't know how

hoy suena el de sarah
pero este piano lo que hace es traerte cerca

piano suena

suenan los acordes de fito
me recuerdan que no quiero perderte

late el lado izquierdo de mi pecho
fuerte
unas tres veces

porque me doy cuenta, ves
de que ya llegué al punto en el que pudieras herirme
eso si quisieras...

(qué rápido)

sentidos

lo anticipado y lo intensamente acumulado
una
cien sensaciones
el placer de lo simple
la felicidad impresa en los detalles

fueron sentidos

el tacto (destreza y suavidad: tus manos)
el olfato (la cálida esencia de tu piel)
el común (tantas cosas)
el oído (aún se suspiran en mi oído tus palabras)
y el gusto (cada uno de los matices de tus sabores)

fueron los sentidos
involucrados

y juntos
queremos, soñamos
antes y después de esos, nuestros días
(días a recordarse, a repetirse para siempre)
mi zu,
en un mismo sentido

.

to all the small things
to the simple treats of ordinary days
to all the just-cooked-meals
to the smell of fresh afternoons outside
to the warmth of familial simplicity
to the right of belonging
to the promise embedded in life
so many
so innocent
are forced to say goodbye

suspiro

con el aire
entran las particulas y moleculas
que al fusionarse, ya dentro, con mariposas y sonrojos
se convierten en un
respiro (gemido)
cuya intensidad equivale al efecto de tus palabras

audiencia

mis palabras son mis ojos
y miran los tuyos
mientras las lees

texturas

hacemos un acuerdo

y formamos con piezas compartidas

un diálogo táctil

mientras hojeo tus ideas

les dejo impregnadas las mias

trazamos un espacio que se vuelve nuestro

que cargamos juntos

como un aura o una esencia

y cuando nos vamos a ser versiones breves y editadas de nosotros

queda un catálogo de recuerdos en relieve

al que de vez en cuando 

para encontrarnos de nuevo

palpamos

abrassive geographies

my body was assigned to me by destiny
my body was born pierced with its origin
designed by fate to be excluded

my body has to be afraid more than other bodies
my body has to move according to
u-n-f-a-i-r
rules

my body has biometric flaws
my body is victim
my body is molested with refined political manipulations

my body migrates
it doesn't travel

my body is my passport
to unwanted worlds

my body has no right to be nostalgic
...to construct attachments
my body is alone

simple and in lower case

With its monolithic power

THE WORLD enters our door

THE WORLD 

big and in upper case

conspires against optimism

once more

IT rolls

IT tumbles

loudly

THE WORLD pushes its way through

the small things everyday

and strips us both off our useless artillery

It makes us small 

even in the rooms we had built around us 

even in our world... simple and in lower case

 

and yet

in the midst of this disproportionate mayhem 

i concede myself the right to expect and wish

to survive 

to once more

and for once

be with you

grace

in days of empty boredom

of desire-less

wish-less

hope-less

waiting

of waiting 

for unnamed promises

for inanimate afters without afters

for short term eternities

in days of mute waiting

grace

is what is missing

latitudes del corazón

Se agrandó, a mi corazón ahora le cabe el mundo, 

elástico,

se expande y cubre pedazos de tierra gigantes

Palpita, con la cadencia de una sonata,

plácido,

acomoda días y noches sin el típico espanto

No espera, contempla el paso del tiempo,

confiado,

renuncia al forcejeo que entumece a los sentidos

Drena, llena los espacios encogidos del cuerpo

y, ágil,

suaviza... relaja mis dolidos pies y mis atadas manos

happiness for happiness

on this dance

i let you take the lead

and my happiness for yours

we trade

i let mine attend backstage

and with no heartaches

i sincerely cheer

for once

i allow some joy enter from outside

as i no longer reserve the spotlight 

in my dreams 

i observe you all

shine with a brilliance i didn't see so clear

and i silently smile 

as i realize

that my happiness is yours

numb

friends are dispersed 

some in distant latitudes of a similar nature 

others gone along paths millions of light years away 

from my own

Love has tired my patience

of that, no need to talk

Fraternal bonds under a question mark

what do they mean?

childhood memories stand on their fictional value

that's all

I'm gone somewhere

where I found nothing but myself 

stripped of all the blurry illusions I had built around me

I can only ask: 

In this quiet disaster,

why is it so hard to feel?

Recess of reason

I need to start a process of loosening
of un-tightening the knots
that have held together this safety net so far

I have to slowly let go of this long gasp of air
that has kept me alive

Releasing the heartbeats I've kept frozen

Stretching the legs of imagination and hope

For so long kept on hold now

I have to expand the scope of the feelings that are let out in light
I need to allow for a little excess of the senses
and a recess of reason
for a broadening of the scales of longing and expectation

I need to allow an increase of space around me
unconditionally
for a while

Let unbridged gaps span besides me
and lie

Rotundo era un no menos categórico; el tiempo y la vida lo hicieron testarudo y cerrado a las posibilidades. Durante años fue ambiguo y le gustaba andar mucho con signos de interrogación y puntos suspensivos. Hubo una época en la que siempre andaba escurrido entre líneas.

Fueron miles las paradojas en las que estuvo involucrado.

Hoy en día, reformado, no cabe duda, no hay de otra: No

Amy Winehouse - Love Is A Losing Game [Official Music Video]

Amy Winehouse

a new found voice for my thoughts

broken

there are kinds of pain for which words are not a valid currency
for which silence is hard and present
there are kinds of suffering that are only left for the champions
for those that have mastered the art of being broken
for those who have lost
along with their hearts and breaths
what they loved

Instrucciones para llorar, Julio Cortazar

Dejando de lado los motivos, atengámonos a la manera correcta de llorar, entendiendo por esto un llanto que no ingrese en el escándalo, ni que insulte a la sonrisa con su paralela y torpe semejanza. El llanto medio u ordinario consiste en una contracción general del rostro y un sonido espasmódico acompañado de lágrimas y mocos, estos últimos al final, pues el llanto se acaba en el momento en que uno se suena enérgicamente. Para llorar, dirija la imaginación hacia usted mismo, y si esto le resulta imposible por haber contraído el hábito de creer en el mundo exterior, piense en un pato cubierto de hormigas o en esos golfos del estrecho de Magallanes en los que no entra nadie, nunca. Llegado el llanto, se tapará con decoro el rostro usando ambas manos con la palma hacia adentro. Los niños llorarán con la manga del saco contra la cara, y de preferencia en un rincón del cuarto. Duración media del llanto, tres minutos.

on behalf

Spike Lee, Melisa Vargas\\Rotterdam, july 07

This was a coincidence, one of those nice ones
Not very often one can be close to great people that one admires

AN EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURE WHICH HAPPENED TO ME, VLADIMIR MAYAKOVSKY, ONE SUMMER IN THE COUNTRY

(Pushkino, Mount Akula, Rumyantsev Cottage, 20 miles down the Yaroslav Railway)

A hundred suns the sunset fired,
into July summer shunted,
it was so hot,
even heat perspired-
it happened in the country.
The little hamlet known as Pushkino,
Akula's Mount
made hunchbacked.
Below, the village
seemed pushed-in so --
its crooked roof-crusts cracked.
And beyond that village
yawned a hole,
into that hole- and not just maybe -
the sun for certain always rolled,
slowly, surely, daily.
At morn
to flood the world
again
the sun rose up-
and ruddied it.
Day after day
it happened this way,
till I got
fed up with it.
And one day I let out such a shout,
that everything grew pale,
point-blank at the sun I yelled:
"Get out!
Enough of loafing there in hell!"
To the sun I yelled:
"You lazy mummer!
in the clouds cushioning,
while here - knowing neither winter nor summer,
I sit, just posters brushing!"
I yelled to the sun:
"Hey, wait there!
Listen, golden brightbrow,
instead of vainly
setting in the air,
have tea with me
right now!"
What have I done!
For ruin I'm heading!
To me,
of his own goodwill,
the sun himself,
ray-strides outspreading,
is marching over the hill.
Not wanting to show him I'm afraid-
back I retreat, guardedly.
Now his eyes lighten the garden shade.
He's actually in the garden now.
Through windows,
doors,
crannies he spread;
in flooded a sunny mass,
having burst in
he drew his breath,
and spoke in a deep bass.
"I've withheld my fires you see
the first time since creation began.
You've invited me?
So lay out the tea,
and, poet, lay on the jam!"
Tears from my poor eyes were streaming-
the heat really made me scary,
all the same-
I got the samovar steaming:
"Of course,
sit down, comrade luminary!"
What possessed me to shout at him like a fool,
inwardly myself I cursed, -
and sat confused
on the corner of a stool,
frightened it might be worse!
But a radiance strange
streamed from the sun, -
and my tact
no longer taxing,
I sit and chat with the luminated one,
gradually relaxing.
About this,
and about that I chatted,
worn out with ROSTA publicity,
but the sun:
"Alright,
don't get so rattled,
see things with greater simplicity!
You think it's easy
for me
to shine so?
- If so, come and have a test! -
But once you go -
why have a go
go - and shine your damnedest!"
We gossiped like that till darkness appeared,
till the night before, that is.
For how could there be any darkness here?
And now
like chums we chatted.
And soon,
in open friendship bonded,
to slap him on the back I dared.
And likewise the sun
warmly responded:
"Why, comrade, we're a pair!
Come, poet,
let us dawn
and sing
away the drabness of the universe.
As the sun, myself I'll fling,
and you - yourself,
in verse."
And shadows' walls,
and jails of night
fell to its double-barreled shot.
Battering barrage of poetry and light -
shine out, no matter what!
And when the sun gets tired,
and night
wants to rest
its sleepy-headed,
why suddenly -
I shine with all my might -
and once more day is trumpeted.
Shine all the time,
for ever shine.
the last days' depths to plumb,
to shine - !
spite every hell combined!
So runs my slogan -
and the sun's!

no one wins

Alrededor de 8 de cada cien niños y niñas dominicanos tienen retardo irreparable, por una falta de atención al tema de la alimentación.

El porcentaje de niños menores de once años obesos en el Reino Unido pasó del 9,9 por ciento en 1995 al 13,4 por ciento en 2004.

Around 8 of each 100 dominican kids are irreversibly retarded due to a lack of attention to their nutrition.

The percentage of obese kids under 11 in the United Kingdom went from 9,9 percent in 1995 to 13,4 percent in 2004.

.............metro de santo domingo

foto: A. Despradel (2006)

Una vez más, encima de las heridas que a penas tratan por sí mismas de curar, otra incisión (quizás la más profunda) deja a la ciudad en carne viva

flying

copacabana beach.feb.2007

I am flying, today, tomorrow
yesterday, i was

the ground is not mine

no time
its gone