Monday, December 28, 2009
Incomplete by Alanis Morissette
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
Monday, November 23, 2009
once upon a time
Sunday, November 22, 2009
productive love
Thursday, November 19, 2009
fantasyland
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
Friday, November 13, 2009
acceso
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
Thursday, November 12, 2009
realismo mágico
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
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
formas platónicas
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.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Friday, October 09, 2009
knowhow
tactical
persevering
thoughts of beauty
persistent
continuous
wishful
images of days to come
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Friday, October 02, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
terapia para dominicanos
Rita Indiana Hernández
Fragmento de la entrevista que le hiciera Carmen Imbert Brugal para Mujer Unica (agosto 2009)
Monday, September 14, 2009
visita
A veces me rozan tus tentáculos que parecen flotar en la líquida atmósfera que traes
¿Te quedas o te vas, soledad?
Sunday, September 06, 2009
monologue | monólogo
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
cupcake
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
Sunday, August 23, 2009
'Quisiera Saber' por Pedro Guerra
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
Thursday, August 20, 2009
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
Friday, August 14, 2009
séver la
Friday, July 31, 2009
function
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
semblance
Monday, July 20, 2009
amor es
Friday, July 10, 2009
tarde de infortunio
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
autismo
Friday, June 12, 2009
scenarios
Thursday, May 28, 2009
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.
Monday, May 18, 2009
carols
Thursday, May 14, 2009
defenses
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
anger management
Monday, May 04, 2009
Friday, May 01, 2009
sobre la mesa
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
memory
Monday, April 06, 2009
last resort
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
traces
Friday, March 27, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Monday, March 09, 2009
Friday, March 06, 2009
asi de bueno
Monday, March 02, 2009
nostalgy
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
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.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
until they say me
Samuel Beckett, The Unnameable
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Monday, February 09, 2009
piano suena
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)
Monday, February 02, 2009
sentidos
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
Monday, January 12, 2009
.
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
ya pasó
fue tan precario tan poco tan malo fue tan oscuro fue tan injusto tan innecesario tan doloroso tan tóxico tan bajo anti-po...
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In a book by Michel Foucault called ' Tecnologies of the self ' he explains the processes by which western philosophy and religion h...
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There is hope in the refusal to indulge in hope (or is it faith in the power of habits?) A heart can get used to anything no matter how sad ...
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my skin is witness my skin is testimony my skin is hope