.:wanderlustmedia+dot+org:.

desde la orilla del mar en retirada
hasta un horizonte que traiciona
la conspirada y ascendente fuga
al borde inferior de oculto cielo
que miente su infinito azul
tras abultados reglamentos grises
-y encima de su esclava lluvia
(testigo cada cual de sus matices)

si rompen olas cada escudo de silencio
cómo brinda la evasión rimada?
si reducido a menos de un sólo lugar
cuanto enriquecido dispersar pretendo
ni el punto ciego asienta perspectivas
y encallado queda en mudas traducciones

(‘muga’ significa frontera o límite en euskera-vasco)

my thoughts are sluggish
tho my heart is beating fast

my tongue gets twisted
when i talk about th past

you speak of love
my whole body’s in a cast

my head is heavy
i may get some sleep at last

la luna se puso sobre mi desvelo al filo boto de la medianoche
(the moon set over my sleepless wake at the dull edge of midnight)
…nothing more- nada mas- quoth th raven-

mareo inesperado de alcohol dulce, azucar destilada
la infancia es mi unica supervivencia en este mundo
con su tierra segura de pequenyos miedos y rencores agigantados

marcas…memorias…huellas…herencias…atavismos…gestos
circuitos…rituales…reflejos…cadenas…legados…sacrificios

encalladas en silencio, noticias en clave
sobre la noche bajo el ocaso
desde la media luz
hasta la media luna
en busca del escondite para escupir
el coraje albergado en el buche

if i had an oar-
a better pull, feather in each hand
a four-valve rudder of gold in th bush, ah!

it’s a hard row to hoe, run aground
landlocked castaway woken up bare
to tending my garden in this
o, best of possible worlds, doc-

if i had an oar to row, a better stroke
to share with yours, under tangible par-
it might not substantively matter
as much, then, if this thin belly
grow soft regardless of absence-

regard blinded mass or volume
‘tween a rock & a hard place-
a wheeze-frozen maze-chamber’d pump
& a joint-hinge rusted stiff open to cold
shadow blown up jam-jambed flesh
houseboat skirts shake-tinkling
french doorframe glass…

hello hello hello hello
goodbye goodbye goodbye goodbye
that’s all there is
and the leaves/that are green/turn to brown
-paul simon

if i had a hammock
i’d hammock in th mornin’
i’d hammock in th evenin’
all over this…house

if i had a bell…if i had a country
haciendo patria en el exilio interno
ni te cases ni te embarques…
my ideal audience if i let myself spool out is perversely polyglot…into th blue-

eventful fifth run of the week this sunday evening: stung by a little bee on the sweaty wrist under my watch,

then bumped my foot on a rock & took a fall- i must have been amazingly relaxed because i barely got scratched!

must be a good omen…
family meeting tomorrow & meet with the lawyer to sign a contract on wednesday…

…one week later: eventful meeting, shouting match between my bros.
wednesday a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel- & yet…
lonely hallowe’en. no good little witch for me.
on th road between vega baja & san juan every day monday to monday.
monday, thursday & sunday overnights in caparra.
al que no quiera caldo, que le den tres tazas.

sylvia plath: love, love, my season
d=(8{>

what is– a planet? o heavenly body-
fake star of th evening
fat gob of warm orbit-shine

another world’s eye of th plumed serpent
gleam of th goddess!
neighborly sister to our own wet marble

suffocating, sulfurous paradise
reflected light of science
hunka hunka burnin love

dry my sargasso sea doldrums
against hydrocarbon science trails
fafar along punctured skin anglio-schisms
go, girl!
spectate me oedipal-
young again in transfusion

drink down, drink down
spirits are cold fire conduit
to darker drowning selves

forest floor raspberries
boiled down’n'clean
to loosen our own dirt free

only sheltered in place
only humble surrender
to th certain season

not my everyday mirror
my enemy brother
to test & fail & test again

mientras mas despierto, mas ausente
fluyo, menos inquieto:
menos fijo, mas transparente

mas desbordo cada hinchada vena
menos tajo de indiferencia
-cuan mejor artista cuando resto ciencia!

(…menos terrunyo robado, perdona)
mas sal de viento para tu lengua
que mejor alimenta mi llama

menos sufrido aunque condenado
risa mas libre que piel sobre piel
por igual turbias, cual mas turbado