Saturday, July 21, 2007


Some said it was sabotage
Others believed more in
Technical difficulties

I heard helicopters
Hovering above
The palace of culture

But I could not
See the flying machines

At the entrance
Guards stood
Holding assault riffles
Like rock stars hold
Electric guitars

It’s good
To see poets
Well protected here
In this Mexican
The poet stood there
With a dead microphone
And a wet speaker

Even though
There was no juice
And the beer sat
In unopened kegs
And the bottles of wine
Were ready for neophytes

The poet
Raised his index finger
Towards heaven
A poetic act by itself
And electricity returned
The speaker and the mike
Were resurrected

Friday, July 20, 2007


I red spider
Hid inside
My red shirt

Since I was
Heading towards
The bathroom
I decided to take it
With me

I shook the shirt
Above the toilet
But it wouldn’t fall
Into the water

So I grabbed
The hair brush
And brushed it off
And it got wet

It tried to swim
But I urinated on it
I flushed it down
And away it sailed
Towards the sea

Wednesday, July 18, 2007


Un barco de amistad
Se asoma por mi ventana
Siempre está
Frente a mis ojos

Pareciera que
Mis lentes
Son buques

Lanchas pesqueras
Con anzuelos
Para corazones humanos

Las naves marinas
Se multiplican
Como los sexos
Del tercer mundo

Los binoculares metafísicos
Son esenciales
Para detectar
Intenciones húmedas

El mar de ha convertido
En un lecho de amor
Hasta los aviones
Se cogen a las avionetas

En la tierra
Están las cuevas
De propagación
Puedo hacer poemas
Con fertilizantes

Tuesday, July 17, 2007


There was a time
When I was angry with God
Because he made me a lion
I wanted to be an eagle

I always was
Getting in trouble at school
For bullying other animals
My father would be called in
And the teacher
Would give him the reports
On my bad behavior
Since dad believed
In the commandments
Of the Holy Instincts
—Something about “love is correction”—
He would exercise those precepts
On my feline body

Back then I didn’t comprehend
My structure
And I would play rough
With my classmates
I didn’t understand
Why they were afraid of me
But I did feel bad about it
I would always stop
When they would cry in pain
Their 4 furry little legs
Would shake

Our first attempt to imitate the king
Was hunting without supervision
On prohibited grounds
My brother and I thought
It would be a good idea
To go into papa’s lair
And take his hunting secrets
Out of their hiding place
He always thought we didn’t know
Where he hid his grownup things
But we always knew

When nobody was around
Usually at night
We would hunt the streets of our jungle
It was exhilarating to watch dogs
Run for their lives
We would fire away
That raw knowledge
But we would always miss
Those canines ran fast
We were fortunate that our disobedience
Didn’t cause any fatalities
Perhaps we can still find the memories
Of those efforts
Engraved on walls
Of elementary schools

It was later on that I understood
Hunting is the art of survival
Territorial protection
Nutritious food for family members
Exercise and enjoyment
For friends and love ones
Like with anything
Hunting gets easier with practice
Since hunting is work
Sometimes it is not fun
But it’s always necessary

The first kill
Is the hardest
Because your knees shake
But as you eat more and get stronger
The shaking subsides
You also learn to kill friends
That become foes
Not out of sport
But out of necessity
When they are too big
Such as a hippopotamus
The easiest way is to chase them
And make them trip
Using their biggest asset against them
Overweight animals tend to
Brake their necks when they fall

If the hippo dies in the water
You must use extreme caution
When entering to retrieve it
Sometimes lion hunters
—Usually doctors—
Can be hiding in camouflage
Waiting with 30’06’s
For someone like you
To get in the river

Monday, July 16, 2007


Children are
The future
Of the family

The future
Of the world

When children
Are present
There’s no need
Feed them poison

You shouldn’t try
To brake
A family

The hearts of children
Are tender

Why do you want
To spear them
With venom?

Of ancestry
In the ears
Of the innocent
Is a serious crime

Are only hurt
By such things
Needles suffering

I can’t overlook
This crime
I have a family
To protect

Sunday, July 15, 2007


Del rio
Funeral home
I think
Del Juan
Funeral homes
Sounds better

About 9 rounds
Of rapid fire
Near midnight

It was the
Inferior eco
Of a 9 mm

I know
I can
Do it faster
With a 45