with or without

uncertain though future days may be
one calm thought prevails

with or without angst
things will be what they will be

clean up

nothing is messier and more confused
than a mind full of prejudice

those who show it

Beware of those who say they love you
welcome and trust those who show it

haiku

searching through these days
i come across your embrace
us is all i need

Somebody that I used to know

this future

my parents were young
when the future was exciting
when their lives and how they lived them
was a symbol of pride and promise

they worked hard
making things
getting things

I am young now
when the idea of the future is uncertain
and sad
when my life and how i live it
seems to be a menace

i also work hard
making things
getting things

but those things
we know now
become waste
in no time

and there is no pride or promise in this system
that me
and a bunch of others like me
need to change

theory

let a belief become a fact
and the world will look scary

let a belief remain a theory
and the world will look intriguing

feelings

all feelings have the right to exist
but not all have the right to dominate

template

Fate is a template
that we fill in and customize
with our ideas
with our courage
with our life

The birth of Elos

After almost two centuries under the rule of the Igno Empire, a Rebel Group began the revolution. The insurrection began in the mid 2200s when the rebels met in secrecy to challenge the single one law that sustained the absolute reign of the Ignos: programmed illiteracy.  Under this empire, people could only mumble sounds, use basic sign language, and were allowed to use 10 approved words. Anyone caught coming up with any other form of expression, was eliminated in the moment. The Rebel Group created a secret language and afterwards decided to recruit new members.  They had to initially lure the new ones with food and shelter and gradually taught them, using subliminal methods, how to speak. The new ones began understanding words and couldn't believe their ears, the euphoria made them eager to keep learning.  In a matter of two years, the Rebel Group had gathered thousands. The fifth year was the year when 1,000,000 people had already learned how to speak and communicate.  This eloquent new group, capable of expression, had regained the tools that made possible the optimal use of their intelligence: words.  They were able to articulate innovative ideas, device plans, argue, defend themselves, create families, communities and fight. They were able to have dignity and self-respect.  After an absolute victory in the peaceful battle of 2210, a new civilization was born: it was called Elos and it had a unique language called Quentis. Elos was the most splendid civilization ever to represent human-kind: in the following centuries new sciences emerged, it expanded to other planets, it spread beauty and peace to all the places of the universe it reached.

Elos had one simple un-breakable rule that never changed: every citizen was obliged to learn the Quentis to perfection. That proficiency was the basis for a sustained rule for the following millenniums.

a prayer for loved ones

that my thoughts protect you

that the stars align for you
that the sun shines on you when you feel dark
that you find your way when you're lost
that clarity comes to you when you need it
that you're able to find joy in simplicity
that love warms your heart
and happiness clears your mind
that my company
can take the weight off trouble
when you need me

riddle

the difference between a feeling and a thought
resides in the fact that
feelings are most of the time reasonable
and reason sometimes isn't

reception

at times

life can be a tough teacher

but if we opt to be receptive

the reward can be 

the acquisition of virtues we never dreamed of having

or a handy skill

or, like in my case, 

the gift of gratitude

and the strength  and love

embedded in patience 

truce

in the midst of this battle

i refuse to surrender

and i fight with the past

as it appears to me 

to be a cruel enemy

i target things that happened

i surround circumstances

i attack bad luck

embarked in my destructive missions, though

i fail to realize

that my real contender has all this time been me 

and all the small and big choices

that brought me where i am

it is me i target, surround and attack 

and it is with me

i hope to finally end 

in a much needed 

sympathetic and forgiving truce

present

the only real way our  existence manifests
is in the present

now
is the only palpable time-frame we really inhabit

so, why obsess about what our memory retains?
why fear or wonder about the stuff that will or won't happen?

melange

a dream is a melange
of feelings
of both superficial and repressed
memories

a concentrated
experience
of past and present
fast and slow

there and gone in a breath

a dream is alive
but never  happens

it is in the mind
and the heart

it brings what we say we hate
into a loving moment

only to remind us
once awake
of what is gone forever
but never really gone

happy

happiness is not a big complex concept
it doesn't occupy too much space
it isn't expansive
or time consuming

when it is there
happiness is like a haze
a sprinkle that covers gently the surface
of even the most banal of circumstances

it is that simple feeling
that frosts any given evening
any silly movie
any walk
any goofy moment
spent with you

certainty

it is not found in the knowledge of what is to happen
for that can't always be assured

certainty

is found in caring words
in warm company
in gentle
calming
love

Thank God for Adele

the things I could do

knowing myself
facing certain truths
facing my worst fears
overcoming them

letting go
adjusting
growing

forgetting the useless
remembering the relevant

learning to love
myself
hence, another
again

were the things that, after all, I could finally do

to mighty weakness

i stare at life

right into its eyes

and i dare it

to make me fall again

i stop my weakness

as it tries to posses me and

i say to it

in a jingle

i've been hurt already

lost

forgotten

i've cried all my tears

and then cried them once more

so, not because of you

not because of anything

will i do that again

love poem

I rest in the warmth
in the seductive wit
in the absolute pleasure

of you

the true one

true love
is persistent
it goes beyond other feelings
that regulate our lives
it remains
even after all the hurricanes that pride,
fear and resentment cause
true love
merges with who we are
and never goes away

Love after love by Derek Walcott

The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life.

progress

Teach a kid how to respect
instead of how to obey

now

there's only now
if memories were meant to last forever in our heads
they simply would
we wouldn't need photographs, journals, videos
even happy moments should be forgotten
specially those that don't mean anything after
only the present is real
the rest is an illusion that makes us think there is something called time

forgetting

all memories are indelible
each has a map
with routs and shortcuts to get to them
but that sequence of signs
when effectively dismantled, that is
no annoying  MacGuffins lying all over
no related characters around
no real desire or will to do so
makes them (happily) inaccessible

for dummies

disillusionment
should come with a manual

oddity

there are moments in which the sum of all those things that make you who you are

doesn't add up

choice

bravery 

sometimes can be foolish

cowardice

is always destructive

happy days

are those in which you don't wonder about being happy
those in which
caught up in small great things
you loose yourself

investments

there are affections

that are simply not deserved

promise

I will not deform any memory

and turn it into an inflated version of itself

I will not impose the present on the past

or the past on the future

I will not exhaust my own patience

but I will neither wait for ever

I will, though,

wait some more

with the peace of those who hope

exclusive

there's a type of loneliness

that is only felt

in the specificity of your absence

resistance

when nothing can destroy a feeling

nothing can stop it's owner

abstinence

in the light of an impossibility

like the one that prevents my words from being said

they create a world of their own inside

and hope to have the chance

one day

to be heard

the appropriate

there is no such measurement

in the arena of what is felt

that would determine whether

loving

or

missing

is right or wrong

those I've loved

as time goes by

the ones that I least expected

have taught me the hardest of all lessons:

that, like all myths,

justice

inhabits in the realm

of fairies, dragons and unicorns

russian dolls

for this journey

i bring with me a tiny baby

a curious child

and a young woman

the four of us

walk or run when needed

rest if we pause

converse and plan

discuss our positions

the baby has no memory

the child dreams and plays

the young woman wishes

I listen to them all

I carry them inside

about giving

there is a shelve

full of things that should have a label saying

"do not give these away"

because if you do give those

you can never replace them

but that shelve doesn't have that label

invisible woman

I may or may not be there

but you won't see me

like you have not seen me before

you won't see me

you don't see me

i may or not

feel or want things

but with my magical powers

they won't be in your way

as they haven't been before

i will fade in the background of your memories

with all the great life lessons I was instrumental for

like the "sugar in the milk"

you won't see me

like you didn't see me before

my heart

my heart speaks to me

from the depths of confusion

occupied

invaded

it speaks to me not asking much anymore

just some comfort

just some peace

my heart has no strength left to suffer

it just walks through pain

alone

quietly

tearlessly

my heart is no hero

just a survivor

again: truth

truth is

it just is

we are designed to mold it

bend it

hide it from our own selves

simply because most of the time

we just can't handle its gravity

but if we stand still for a moment

and quietly wait

it generally makes its way out

heroes

I need to gather a team of super-heroes, a sort of justice league

to protect me

fuerza

Un aparente déficit de lugares dónde encontrarla

produce una carencia de fuerza que permea los días

pasan indistintos

me veo incapaz de transformalos

invasions

if my life was a territory

i would build a fortress all around it

search

humans are born with a specific amount of faith in their spirit

the search for something to put that faith in

then becomes the purpose of their lives

healing

empathy

is the most powerful medicine there is

seeing ourselves in the pain of others

feeling comfort in our capacity to listen

to help

reminds us that our problems are like the problems of others:

mostly in our minds

sense

i can't think of more distructive things than intolerance and moral extremism

suspension

a much needed suspension of judgement

will allow love to finally do its job in peace

persistence

in the midst of daily-ness

in the aftermath of epic-ness

in the glances of happiness

in the confusion of randomness

resiliently

the pain of what is lost persists

ejercicio

mientras

pongo post-its por todas partes

recordándome que debo esperar

con calma

a que el peso de las cosas las haga caer en su sitio

como siempre pasa

Donde el sol realmente brilla y realmente quema

Eran eso de las 4 de la tarde. Brillaba.

En las puntas, los dedos ardían mientras las construía, las gotas de cera parecían de lava por unos segundos antes de secarse. El olor de las plumas volaba junto aquellas que no se adherían a veces y se esparcían en el aire apenas cualquier brisa.

Listas las alas amortiguaron el vértigo y en un brinco ya no se sentía parte de la tierra. Brillaba.

Planear era tan difícil como aletear. El Mar Caribe llevaba su ritmo y estaba lejos. El viento aunque difícil, estaba de su lado. Lo subían las corrientes de aire ligero junto a un halcón indiferente.

Arriba, todo el cuerpo hacía contorsiones acrobáticas y mantenía el vuelo. Todo brillaba: la costa, el mar por el reflejo.

El sol, tan cerca brillaba por encima de todo, tanto que tuvo que por un momento cerrar los ojos y los demás sentidos agudizaron: las gotas de cera sobre la espalda parecían de lava, las llamas hervían su sudor y el olor de las plumas se iba junto a ellas en el aire. El vértigo alejaba al cielo y acercaba al mar. La gravedad lo halaba a él junto a sus alas.

En el agua, aún no se sentía parte de la tierra. El fuego del sol ardía entre las fibras de las plumas flotantes y veía en ellas, al hundirse, claro el reflejo de sus luces.

A eso de las 5 de la tarde, según Ícaro, él y el sol aún brillaban.

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