Tuesday, December 30, 2008


The guy
Who runs this place
Looks like OJ Simpson
He seems to be nervous
It is only natural
It is only human


Those who work
For the state
Seem so clean
Sometimes their
Faces shine
Like a Hollywood ad

Will be found
With its citizens
Not with its bureaucrats

On the faces
Of healthy children

The splendor of California

It is found
With its people
Specifically in
The beaming
Eyes of its mothers

Monday, December 29, 2008


On our way in
We gambled the water hole
I suppose we were on a hurry
But we made it through

On our way out
We decided to share
The cattle’s road

The beasts looked disturbed
But just for just a moment
They quickly got back to gracing
Here we avoided the clay & mire

At highway speeds
We could feel the consequences
Of our gamble

The car began to shake
Almost uncontrollably
At first I thought the worse
But as we continued travelling south
I had my easy kind of feeling
This always encourages me

We persisted in our hunt
For the governor of the sea
I got mine
They settled for
Ground meat & potatoes

Sunday, December 28, 2008


Two Spanish kids
Walked by us
They were blaming
Each other saying
You’re dangerous
Back & forward
Their accents fell
On the crafted floor
And they slid towards
The ocean

Saturday, December 27, 2008


The cat
Keeps jumping
On me
As I sleep
Wants to
Get cozy & all
And it’s not
Even mine

Friday, December 26, 2008


As I drink coffee
Little red ridding hood
Flirts with the wolf
Her father seems nervous
Her mother is good looking
And the wolf looks at me
And smiles

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Saint Nicholas... the world needs your help tonight...


It had a rainbow
Like when God stopped
Drenching humanity

We entered
And one of the kids said
Thank you for the bicycles papa
& his brother said
Thank Saint Nicholas

The owner
Who was talking on the phone
Had a change in his voice

But Christmas is an event
Of gifts & happiness
Of good will & good faith

Yes son?
We did you bought us bicycles?
For exercise son

These are better
Then video games

The owner got up
From his seat
And turned the heater on

This I know
Let the children play
With the bicycles
Of the world

Monday, December 22, 2008

I got a kindhearted woman do anything in this world for me
I got a kindhearted woman do anything in this world for me
But these evil-hearted women
Man they will not let me be

Robert Johnson.


Crossing the border
In the rain is okay
If you are inside a car
Joking & singing with your son
While he wears a ski mask

Sunday, December 21, 2008


How tasteful is seafood
Delicious beings from the deep

The children are eating
I have mine with spices

The boys say
The Federales are also eating fish
I tell them it is normal
They get hungry too

Fish are good
Because they’re not greedy

We have a toast with
Coca Cola
Apple soda &
Dos Equis

Later the kids ask
For chocolates
Everything is perfect
But you are missing

Saturday, December 20, 2008


Coffee & books
Go hand in hand
Like the school’s children
On winter’s morning
It’s not my fault Gandhi
Doesn’t flavor caffeine

Friday, December 19, 2008


Most beautiful appearance
In the labyrinth
Her dark eyes are
2 diamonds
Lodged in my mind
She consumes the world
In mandarin

Wednesday, December 17, 2008


The woman at the grocery store
Waits in line to pay
For an encounter
She has stored inside
Her two wine bottles
At the parking lot
My classmate looks better
Than she did at high school
She smiles
I pretend not to look
Not to think about the fact
That I always liked her
But she noticed me looking at her
And she smiled again
Before driving away

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

I bicycled back to the fence that divides the two Californias, the one located on the northwestern corner of Latin-American, I wanted to see what was left of the poetic lines that had been attached to the metal wall, to my surprise there was still some ribbons ready to be read. The poetry remained despite of the rain.

The following is what I found:


the american dream becomes a nightmare

buscaré ahora, ¿mañana quién podrá?
vine a elevar mis esperanzas más alto que el vuelo de los cuervos.
poesía es amistad, amistad es corazón, corazón es para siempre,
como una constelación que correrá por tus ojos recogiendo tus lágrimas.

no les agradezcas la muerte que respiras,
¿qué más? si hemos aprendido aguantar
nevadas y huracanes.

la paciencia es el mejor camino al cielo
¡no más muertos! ¡no más bardas!
esta es la patria perfecta de la naturaleza humana.

lo más triste es que este cielo de vidrio
se haga sólo con mirarlo.
la poesía es el elixir de la vida.
¡abraza mi corazón!

el río de tijuana dijo
conoced ambos lados y yo dije: ¡siempre!
aquí se guardan las voces
de los que dijeron adiós,
lo más hermoso y bello que puedes tener
es encontrar alguien especial
inicio y fin de la mirada de los nómadas

escribir mi nombre pero
no había lugar para el ego
los emigrantes 4ta posada
regalos jugosas de Dios

paloma sobre el asfalto dormía,
sólo un ala le faltaba, y la vida.

amo libremente todo lo tuyo
el río dice que hay 2 lados pero 1 río
nosotros somos un río brillante

el mar espera contra la pared
el muro y la oxidación
son los alimentos del mar


I got the crow
In the air
He went down
With 1 shot
Entangled on
The barb wire
As he was dying
He began to sing

Monday, December 15, 2008


More painful are the works of the soul
Than the aching body
Of a solstice exercised athlete

Sunday, December 14, 2008

the sea sucking at the shore....

William Styron.

The following is for my lovely friend…..


My arms can hold
The waist of love
Denim clad hips
The darkest skin

I have never loved
A dark woman
A brown woman
A desert woman
An eastern woman
An African woman

I think it’s time
For this
For more
Of this to occur

Possibilities in
A time machine

To take place
In the chambers
Of my soul

Sun bathed pigmentation
Of togetherness

The humidity of her pores
Will become coffee
In my mouth

If others have mistreated you
I will love you!

Daughter of the sand dunes
Maiden of the shadows
Mother Africa
Sister sun

Silvia in the ceiling of my eyes
Silvia of the skies
Silvia conqueror of deceit
Silvia light of my thoughts
Silvia front of passion
Silvia you’ll be the first because of this
Silvia with the most beautiful face in the world
Silvia do not conceal your splendor


I write your name 1 thousand times
In the night’s sky
My personal blackboard
For the codification
Of your beauty

I see you in every flower
In every rock
In the sea
In the mountains
I see you always
On the nature of my path.


The wind moves her skirt as she buttons it
She asks me:
Don’t you want this for your flag?

Saturday, December 13, 2008


He died
A long time ago
Some believe
His music is beautiful

I think he had good intentions
His music was good
For what it was
But this is in the past

It be in your best interest
Not to threaten me

I consider you family
And I will deal with you as such

Do not interfere with me
Especially when it comes
To my children


Let me put
My sun glasses on
I’ll look more mysterious

I’ll be your Natasha
You’ll be
My Boris

I’ll be Juan

I’ll be
Holding with my hands
What is always
What is forever


Death is sleep
Death is every night

The devil don’t sleep
Because he’s truly dead

God doesn’t sleep
He does rest

Only humans sleep
Dead is being alive
Every morning there’s a resurrection

Death is everything
That’s doesn’t let you move

Death doesn’t exist
Because death is you

Death is
Under the guarache sandals
Of a Palestinian

Friday, December 12, 2008


I dreamt again
I dreamt awoken but still asleep
I dreamt you were speaking to me
Using words crafted by some kind of writer
I was half smiling half doubting
Navigating on the crooked
Dimensions of dreams
Trying to gauge the truth
With the movements of my soul
Putting aside everything I have been thought
In order to find disorder
The kind that makes for good euro─art
In your dreams you can resurrect the dead
In your dreams it’s easier to understand God
When your beautiful mind
Is not working that well
When your heart
Is being stretched by a tugboat

Thursday, December 11, 2008


I dreamt the most beautiful flower
Her aroma clearing my airways
Wake up to orange peels on my coffee table

Wednesday, December 10, 2008


Hello you
Come down here
I’ll kiss your world

Flies are neurotic,
moths are crazy,
but for serenity you can’t beat a butterfly.

There’s no preparation for poetry. Four years of grave digging
with a nice volume of poetry or a book of philosophy in one’s
pocket would serve as well as any university.

Charles Simic

Tuesday, December 09, 2008


Beautiful maiden with long black hair
I smiled as I walked by
Her eyes lit like a bonfire on the sand

Monday, December 08, 2008


Waiting in line
At the cash register
The smiley girl next to me
Wears a potent perfume that
Almost makes me sneeze

If she wasn’t standing
So close
Things would be fine

Once I paid
I hurried up pushing
My shopping cart towards
My bicycle

I noticed the
Owner of a boutique
Looking at me
So I hurried up & picked up speed
Almost the to the point of running

I heard my name being yelled
So I looked over my shoulder
And there she was
Waving her hands at me

I made a 360 with my shopping cart
And strolled towards her
And she said she wanted to thank me
For telling her
Everything was going to be fine
Not the be afraid
And that things were okay
I told her that I am happy for her
That is a good think to get rid of fears

And before she thought about
Asking me for a hug
I said goodbye
And quickly continued on my path
Towards my bike
And I was thinking of you


I love
To save the world

I love
Because is better
Than not loving

I love
To breathe better

I love
To exercise the heart

I love
To help others

I love
In spite of misunderstandings

I love
Because I am addicted to love

I love
With my eyes closed

I love
With my eyes open

I love
To speak softly in your ear

I love
To see you again

I love
To hold your hand

I love
For you to feel better

I love
To dry your tears with my touch

I love
Because today might be the last day

I love
To fight iniquity

I love

I love

I love
For those who can not love

I love you

If a society without social justice is not a good society, a society without poetry is a society without dreams, without words . . . and without that bridge between one person and another that poetry is. If society abolishes poetry it commits spiritual suicide.

Octavio Paz.

This is why I have rendered myself a professional dreamer.

Sunday, December 07, 2008


One of life’s greatest pleasures is to drive
The negotiations of invisible corners
And unknown road obstacles

When the truth is withheld
The mode of movement
Is always by intuition

Always remotely

There are vehicles that you love
To touch
To steer
To guide

Instruments that become
And extension of your body
Of your existence

They’re always kept
And protected
In house

Works of art
Render untouchable

Only reserved for
The best vocation
For highest orders
For spiritual realities
Vessels of high degree

The others
You have to lease to strangers
High risk contracts
Always with depreciation
Short life span

If they break
They will break on the competition
Explode on their faces
Or their asses
Burn their houses &
Sabotage their plans

Some creations are meant to be destroyed
Vessels of disposable degree
The Japanese understood this
When they implemented the kamikaze

Kiss my enemies
And do what you
Know how
To do best

Saturday, December 06, 2008


I saw her
At the mystic kitchen
A light beaming
From above
Her eyes
Illuminating the
Tables with bounty &
Hope inside
Coffee cups
With future
Resting comfortably
On red salsa bowls
Waiting to be digested
By dazzled intentions

Delightfully silent
Her lips
Like the waves
Of my ocean
Her face beginning
To redden despite
Her DNA composition

The mark of my kiss
Embedded delicately
In her forehead
Invisible love scar
Encrypted with
The fire of trust

Silent she sat
Sighing with the
Aroma of language
The curvature of her lips
Made all the statements
That were necessary
She was dressed to know the truth
Her black hair covered
Her beautiful face
Her countenance


Tú eres mi carta del amor
Clandestina y especial
Tú eres mi tesoro del azar
Milagro de la suerte
Antídoto de mis incertidumbres
Medicina de mis cielos
Brillo de mi realidad
Mi coordenada de hermosura
Mi estrella del alma
Mis caricias de viento
Mis encantos de luna llena
Mis sueños con sabor a ti
Mis nubes y mis lluvias
Mi flor de playa

Thursday, December 04, 2008


When she came back from the army
I always thought she would get tired of me
And cut me down with her sniper skills

Instead she took my pen
And stabbed
My back with it

I wonder if I still have the scars

I laid on our bed
And told her
I would get
Ink poisoning
Told her I was going to die

She began to cry
Like the time when
I was outsmarted
By a dog & ended up
With a hole in my head

She kissed me
She kissed every
Open wound
She made love to me

Tuesday, December 02, 2008


This time your siesta
Will be longer that expected

You can’t forget how to play the strings
And this is good because
You will need
This knowledge forever

Playing guitar was never hard for you
It was your delight
It gave you meaning

You played your way through life
And you will continue
Doing this while resting &
Waiting to be awoken by Him

It was your music
When you asked me to sing
“Teach your children well”
And your guitar would change
The sea & the night

It was your music
In military turf
Your Native American music
Playing the bathrooms of war

It was your music
When beautiful
Protestant women
Anglo-Saxon women
Would tried to convert you
Their lustful trembling eyes fixed on you
As they try to pray for your salvation
So they could marry you

It was your music
As I drove into the USA
And you drove shotgun
Reading those secrets of yours
Telling me not look at what
You were seeing
Telling me I was still too young

It was your music
Hitched to moving vans
Overcrowded with missionaries
Your music shouting:
Don’t go!

Monday, December 01, 2008


A ghost
Cooks in my
Mother’s kitchen


I saw her again
She looked weary
Somewhat fretful
Her freshness & her smile
Had disappeared

At the coffee place
She looked incredibly attractive
But here at this
Warehouse of images
She seems vulnerable
Her children stood with her
Perhaps it was the haste
To switch colors

After all this time
I still feel the distress of others
I never managed to get rid
Of that sensor

It’s your turn Sir, you are next
She said

I had forgotten
We were both on the same line
And the salesmen
Behind the artifacts
Were calling me
Making signs with their
Hands & arms
So I would approach them

I was there
But my mind was elsewhere
And my heart was
Was far away

Sunday, November 30, 2008


It has begun
Tonight my baby boy
Asked to sleep with his guitar

Saturday, November 29, 2008


El triunfo
Es un estado mental
Una encrucijada
De sentimientos intervenidos
Si supieras
Contra quién compites
Tu encandilamiento
Se convertiría
En la más intensa euforia
Y la llamas
En lo que siempre han sido
En las caricias de Dios

Friday, November 28, 2008

Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth, "You owe me."
Look what happens with a Love like that!
—It lights the whole Sky. (Hafiz)

Writing a love poem is like building difficult quarters, the edification of an ambitious house; it is a launch of happiness in every direction with your eyes shut. A love poem always looks for the personification of this dear virtue that is mandated by the most beautiful religions of the world. Once you have your muse, your inspiration, your conflagration, once you have lost every single fragment of rationalism and your aesthetic guide has taken over to become your autopilot, once that magnificent image has proven willing & able to be the visual & lyrical epitaph of Love, then & only then, it is time for such an endeavor to begin. This is my poetical wager, my hunt for the deadly essence of passion, my will to capture the dangerous ardor of romance so I may study it, so I may admire it, so I can contemplate it, but above all else, so I can expand the intensity of life by standing next to its (her) fire.

Thursday, November 27, 2008


Dance the African dance
Dance in the Safari
Giving thanks in the bush
See the lions
Grateful for their large supplements
Still moving to the rhythm
This body will nurture
Their feline strength

Ponder the game of survival
The sparks initiated
By the will the participate
In the extraction of energy
Of this organic mass
That emanates wonderful
Units of electricity

Feed upon the light
Of courage
Digest the impulses
Of desperation
Bite chunks off
Large pieces of insolence
Meditate on the fragments
Of disrespect
Lodged between their fangs

Gorge now
Because a dish like this
Is very strange indeed &
We don’t know
What tomorrow will bring

Beings from the wild
Consider the open eyes
Of the prey
Judge for yourselves
If this meat
Is not nutritious
The necessity of it
For us to continue
Walking on the land
Of this radiant continent

Do not chew in anger
But ponder the need
For this our nourishment
It is good for all of God’s creation

Think about this my furry friends
As you tap that rich source of sustenance
For the food you are eating
Will make it leaner
Because nature has endowed you
As master craftsmen
Of this being
Taking away the excess of imprudence
Making of it a beautiful work or art
A skeleton worthy of love
And tenderness
A proper relic to be had
In one’s home
Located at the right place
With the cleansing of oil &
Prayers of thanksgiving

Wednesday, November 26, 2008


Las bóvedas celestes
Nos pertenecen
Amor invisible
Auténtico como el oxigeno
Explosivo para los malvados
Aliciente de enamorados
Deliciosos secretos
Que desatan
Celebraciones infantiles


We sat facing each other
She smiled at me & I smiled back
Then she began to play with her hair
Using her fingers as a curler iron
& I kept smiling for her
& then I looked through the windows
She began to play
Putting her finger inside her mouth
Trying ferociously to recapture my attention
But there is always other amusing
Miracles to look at
& she pulled the string
& the bus stopped
& she was gone forever
& I was beginning to feel comfortable
When 2 precious girls sat next to me
1 to my right
The other 1 to my left
Instinctively I tried to get up
And move to another seat but
They were both sitting on
The flaps of my jacket
And I could not takeoff
They were commandeered
By an old woman wearing a shirt
With a recycle symbol on it
Who was sucking on a lollipop
& looking straight at me
& all of them began to play with
Their hair….
But I was more concerned with
The prettiest princess sitting
In the corner holding a notebook
On her lap that said “English”
Nervously covering love poems
The she had written on her hand
& she was having none of this
But she was sighing…
& I was nailed down to my seat
Thinking about the heavenly woman
Who is now living in my heart

Monday, November 24, 2008


When they sleep
Rapidly moving their eyelids
It’s because the dreams
Have entered
Have pierced
The soft tissue
And the healers make sure
The visions are like belladonna

I’ll take your fright
And give you my hands
So you can softly bite them

More & more

More of your breaths
Injecting your sorrow
Into my recycled steps

Love is hard work!

You can sleep in
If you want to
At this station
We have this kind of opulence

Clocks & watches
Stop working
When you’re happy


Nubes de pólvora
Son velo de sol
El oriente se ilumina
Los muertos descansan
Los vivos terminan sus jornadas
Un gallo canta

Sunday, November 23, 2008


Beauty lies
On imperfection
Like helicopters
Flying on the wrong
Side of the sky
Like bicycles
On the world’s runways
Like my lips
Waiting to kiss you

Thursday, November 20, 2008


The Americans stock pile on beer
And they look so happy
And I am happy for them
Because they deserve it

Everybody deserves it
If they like to race let them race
And drink from those bottles
Filled with sunshine
Let them flee for their commercial bondage

As for me I’ll keep watch over
The extremely attractive girls
They enter & exit as I try to slice up poems

The tall one with penetrating eyes
Keeps looking my way
Locking her black pupils
With the eye of my heart

These girls are on a race of their own
And if I was the judge
I would give the grand prize
To the one sitting to my left
I like the way her eye liner flows
Over her native features

And they keep coming & going
Their esthetic brains working
Like day laborers just before a strike

Ah the one with fair skin
She wears the net on her legs
The net that will catch the imagination of men
And overthrow a multitude of principles

And the men look more afraid than the women
And the children look the happiest
Because they race with their imaginations
And their victories cause no damage
Neither hurt nor pain
The children triumphant &
Modification of our future


Salen de la boca
Como platillos voladores
Aterrizan en oídos ilusos
Ya casi es invierno pero hace calor

Taladran como bacterias en los tejidos
Amados como todo lo que hace daño
Como la anemia de los comercios

Los combatientes
Sufren el terror de la música a la moda
Modificación de sus fervientes ideas

Para la purificación
De sus materias primas
Y sus cuerpos
Danza el óleo sobre el lienzo

Una imagen no son 1000 palabras
Una palabra es un proyecto
Es la detención de tu atención
Un momento perdido de tu vida
La fatiga que te hace tomar asiento

Tuesday, November 18, 2008


Artificial thunder
Is not better
Than the real thing

It happens more often
And simulated damage
Is worse than
Organic hurt

If only the world
Would stop fighting
The reins of love

Everything could be
As pretty as
A regular life span

A crown
Is always a symbol

It represents
The will of some
Over the will of others

Monarchy vs ambition
Wall Street vs royalty

Destined to fade away
Like caprices
Of our tender age

I invoke you
Christ the carpenter

I beseech your working class practicality
Your holy simplicity

Oh how many tables & chairs you have built

Oh Craftsman of my spirit!
Master of my Mexican soul!

The times I have worshiped you
Your fiery glance
Was better than a thousand crowns

Numerous times you appeared
Sitting comfortably amongst the poor
As I admired the fine workmanship
Of the furniture

Monday, November 17, 2008


─ ¿Juan, no le tienes miedo al agua?
─ No.
─ ¿De veras?
─ De veras.
─ ¡Hay Juan! ¿Y ahorita que es de noche, no te da miedo?
─ No.
─ ¿Te echarías un clavado al mar?
─ ¿Contigo?
─ A mí me da miedo
─ No hay nada que temer… nos podemos poner un traje de buzo. Además, no hay corrientes fuertes.
─ Juan, no sé cómo le haces.
─ ¿Cómo hago qué cosa?
─ Las cosas que haces.
─ ¿Cuáles cosas?
─ Olvídalo.
─ Está bien.
─ ¿Quieres vivir conmigo?
─ ¿Vivir contigo?
─ Sí, conmigo.
─ Ya vivimos juntos
─ ¿Por qué dices eso?
─ Porque toda la humanidad vive junta.
─ No es cierto.
─ Sí, todos vivimos juntos en el mismo planeta.
─ ¿Estás jugando conmigo?
─ No.
─ Te tengo.
─ ¿Qué tienes?
─ Te tengo a ti.
─ Sí, tienes mi amistad.

Saturday, November 15, 2008


Tú eres
El poeta laureado
De los alienígenas
Y le dije:
También puedo meterme
Dentro de pájaros
Y volar hasta
Las ventanas
De hermosas doncellas
Y preguntó
¿Eres un poeta maldito?
Y le dije:
Soy un maldito poeta

Wednesday, November 12, 2008


A S.P.

Te escucho en mis sueños
Te escucho en mí caminar
Te escucho en el canto
De las olas del mar

Mi piel y mi boca te escuchan
Cuando el mismo viento
Que pasó por tus labios
Toca mi cuerpo

Nuestras vidas
No son prisioneras
No han sido hurtadas
Por bandidos existenciales
Están a salvo
Escondidas en una tus pupilas
En el iris de tu ojo

El amor siempre ha sido
Un quejido inesperado
El sonido de la felicidad
La evidencia de la vida

Prefiero sentirte que pensarte
Y por eso siento nuestro futuro
Entre tantos árboles
En un jardín de sonrisas
Lo invisible no se puede robar
Nuestras visiones continúan

Los caprichos sólo son hojas
Frágiles que se transportan
Con el cambio de las estaciones
La música de tu fuerza
Está en los latidos de tu corazón

En 1 dimensión
Donde no existe el tiempo
Nunca es tarde
No se puede crecer hacia fuera
En el bosque de los espejos

El mundo es un lugar tan pequeño
Las distancias desaparecen
Con 1 paso puedo tomar tu mano

Las fronteras no existen
Para los espíritus
Pero los árboles sí
Es mejor estar en 1 árbol
Es mejor así

Tuesday, November 11, 2008


Sleeping on
A mattress
On the floor
Is not that bad

As long as the children
Are sleeping
On their beds
And dreaming about
Conquering dinosaurs
Waking up & telling me about it
And listening to my advice
About what to do
When hunting alone

But now it’s time
To go back to
My low profile cradle

I am getting ready to
Read the poetry of
Rae Armantrout
Because this
Is like camping
Like sleeping
With the New Yorker
Something that happens
Not too often

Saturday, November 08, 2008


Respaldados por intenciones centrifúgales

Pero nosotros
Plantamos nuestras semillas
Por todo el planeta
Respaldados por la supervivencia
Adiestrados para amar la tierra

Tú y yo
Plantamos semillas de amor
En nuestras memorias
Brotes de un millón de intenciones
Antídotos contra la incomunicación

Sembraré en tus ojos
Las imágenes más importantes
Senderos colmados de estrellas
Estrechos como la cintura
De una palmera

¡Oh Dios mío!
Guía mis semillas
Como guías los rayos del sol
Convierte a cada una de ellas
En embajadoras invisibles
En matrices de confianza
En protones antisépticos

Friday, November 07, 2008


When I looked at sea
I thought I saw you
More beautiful than ever
Swimming with dolphins

Thursday, November 06, 2008


Tonight I drank
Red wine
It felt
As if I were
Kissing your lips

Monday, November 03, 2008


He was drinking it but
He stopped and poured
Orange juice
On the double grave
A little bit for each person
He’s on the right path
He just follows his heart
And he’s only a child

Friday, October 31, 2008


Learning to fall in love
On the side of
A public telephone

A la superman
But without
The stains
Of suicide

I could hear her
With her most
Beautiful sighs

By resonance
I could tell
Her lovely dimensions

A dog uses
The sense of smell
To process data

A guitarist listens
For the truth of music
For any evidence
For all the indications
For a melody
For a bed on fire

Wednesday, October 29, 2008


The children run
In the school yard
They are so happy
So full of
Energy & love

They play with
The morning sun
The soft warm wind
Curls around them

And suddenly
As I wrote this
A beautiful girl
2nd grader asked:
“What are you doing Sir?”
And she looked at my notebook
And said
“What beautiful hand writing you have”
I pondered on her words
Only children say those things
Adults never do

The girl ran away towards
Her classmates
And then a voice came
From my right side
It was a 2nd grade boy
“Sir, is it true you are a spy?”
“Son, it’s just that the boys and I
Like to play that way”
He ran away & continued
Playing with his classmates


All elderly people have blue veins?

Not all of them
But a lot of them do

What is the color
Of our veins?

Look at my hand
( I made a fist)
My veins began
To emerge on my skin

You veins are green

Your veins are also green

When we are elderly
Are we going to have
Blue veins?

Maybe not
The important thing
To remember right now
Is that we have them green


I love you
So much
I want you
To become
An extension
Of me

Saturday, October 25, 2008


If not you
Somebody else
Might as well
Join the good cause
It might be
A little rough at first
But you will be better off
And perhaps someday
You might even thank me

Friday, October 24, 2008


The woman cries
But everything carries on naturally
Like it has throughout the centuries
Nevertheless I cry with her
And when her husband laughs
I laugh with him

We have to support our friends
In sadness & happiness
In festivity & sobriety
This is pleasing to the Lord

We try to explain complicated things
With metaphors and short stories
Regardless of this
Few understand

The ones that do comprehend
Are usually working class
Poor in devaluated monies
But rich in dignity
And prosperous with
Many smiles

Wednesday, October 22, 2008


The wind caresses
The hairs
Of the couple
They walk together
They watch a stabbing
As they move
On the sand

Tuesday, October 21, 2008


Investigaciones clandestinas
Los dígitos más personales
De los ciudadanos del mundo
Plegarias lanzadas al cielo
En espera de una lluvia
Con resultados benignos
Hoy me siento más cerca
De todas las mamás del mundo
Me solidarizo con las cortinas
De incertidumbre
Una espera en la
Separación de la realidad

Sunday, October 19, 2008


The wheels are
Merry go round again
I miss walking already and
The bicycle looks like
The best mechanical solution

When she
Entered my car
The sun set intensified
We were baptized
With ultraviolet rays
Our faces
Were left glowing

My heart became an
Uncontrollable pinball
A tiny 22 ricocheting
& piercing my emotions

This symptom was aggravated
By the tone of her voice

I kept talking by default
Trying to break the ice
But I realized there was
No frost whatsoever

I felt a pleasurable pain
And saw how
My thorax was on fire

I tried
Not to look at her
Because I did not wanted
To be assassinated
By her beauty

I remembered
One of the last things we talked about
Was good taste

Friday, October 17, 2008


The rat
Has become
An intriguing chemist
I am amazed
At this resourceful varmint
For a moment
I thought about
Not killing it
I thought
About making it
My pet

Thursday, October 16, 2008


The beautiful
Human beings
Picked me up
On the side of
The dirt road

They a speak
The dialect
Of freedom

A rare language
I can not decipher
But I can feel

Those communiqués
Are full of hope
Bursting with progress
For the human race

I sat in the back
With the women & children
And their baby girls
Smiled at me

Wednesday, October 15, 2008


For Eugene

Happiness will run you over
My friends always wish me the best
And in turn I can only offer them
More of the same

You are an angel in disguise
A heavenly bartender
And aficionado of life
An organic dispenser of advice
A machine of wisdom
For constant friendship

You use academic methods
To mitigate our daily struggle
Even in desperation you understand
That all things are better
With the proper seasoning
The different seasons that
Make everything blow up
Into different realities

Our friendship is a ship
A Noah’s Ark
A salvation from
The wars of the mind
From the eyes of the world
From synthetic intelligence

My eroded lips are evidence
That the wind has been kissing me
In the most secret place
An invisible location
A beautiful area where
The Times are not taken seriously
Where everybody’s real name
Is fully disclosed
And there’s no fighting
Because there’s energy for all

Once you enter through those gates
You see with the heart
And everyone is alright
Because there’s no more blindness
And the tanks of happiness
Shoot at you with their power missiles
That go through your body
And make you explode in laughter
Because of the tingling sensation
In all of your extremities

I was there
Where you can drink patience
In pretty bottles of wine
That have been saved
For this sacred purpose
And Joy can also be ridden
Like a rich man’s horse
And then 1 minute is
1 million years
And 1 million years
1 minute
Where a kiss eclipses
The sun & the moon
As you walk with the
Greatest of pleasures
And laugh with the
Innocence of a child
And care for each other
With the love of a Mother
Of many fortunes

Here you can listen
To the clouds speak
A language of their
Own making
With a symbol for tenderness
And red tomatoes feed
Both man & beast

This creation is what
Keeps you warm
Because happiness flies
Over you & under you
Through your legs
And through your fingers
And you can always discern
As beings & objects
Change forms

Monday, October 13, 2008


La tierra
Se comunica con
Las plantas de mis pies
El cholo del Cadillac
Es un piloto disfrazado

Saturday, October 11, 2008


An electronic apology
Came forth from the cosmonaut’s net

A 12 volt
Nervous smile
Linguistic thievery

Your kindergarten experiments
Are criminal borders

And you can either
Be a victim
Of your own schemes
Or a medium rare stake
Inside a used bag
Salty fluids dripping
On the bathtub

A dead horse on the beach
With the name
Of my friend written on it

Or a champion
With the brightest
Spiritual undertaking


El migra llora
Con sus claros
Y húmedos
Ojos anglosajones
Silencioso cachorro
Le sonrío
Para hacerlo
Sentir mejor
Pero me da la espalda
Y se aleja acongojado

Friday, October 10, 2008


And to think
It’s only a
Black box

By the ocean

The salt
Turns the water
Into one
Big battery

Little chips
From the sun

Thursday, October 09, 2008


I hear horses outside
They stand
Like politicians
Wild horses
That escaped
3 horses that
Want to help
Great horses
Watch horses
Horses with
A Colgate smile

Tuesday, October 07, 2008


I dream in an airplane
And I found my pistols
Stored under my seat
And this makes me
A little nervous

I study the other passengers
All of them have
Guns under their seats

Suddenly a middle class
Anglo-Saxon American
Tells me he wants
To trade his place
For my seat
He says he wants to sleep

I say

He explains that
I will be better
In his position

I say

He insists adamantly
With the tenacity of a use car salesman
And I find myself at the point
Of utter anger
Since he’s such a bother
I grab my pistols
And tuck them in my boots

I am escorted by beautiful
But exhausted women
(I don’t find the desire
To impregnate them
With my offspring)
Towards a door
That looks like a mattress

They open the door for me
And say: welcome
I enter to what some
Claim is first class
With its casinos
And movie theaters
Pretty girls and
Clean bathrooms
Neon lights
Near the ocean

I look for a parachute
And there is none
If this is called flying
Then I want to
Kiss the earth


The beautiful coupleTold they’re architects
They say
They want to
Know poetry

I tell them architecture
Is poetry

She’s pretty & petite
Wearing all star converse shoes

Her eyes are suffering
From sporadic earthquakes
A symptom I have detected
In beauty queens

I think she’s ready to
Hold my hands
And walk with me

But he’s not ready
He keeps looking at me
A bit hesitant & unsure

He raises his right hand
In a new dance kind of way
I know he
Will not understand

I’ll wait
A little bit longer

Sunday, October 05, 2008


Tu cumpleaños es una célula madre
Evidencia plasmada en un rincón
De la realidad
Tu coraje por la vida
Ha sido mi antibiótico
Mi intrépido anticuerpo

Desde mi infancia
Me has cuidado con tu tacto de enfermera
Has suturado mis heridas de adulto
Con mis ideas de niño

He sometido las sonrisas del dolor
Con tu cariño
Que ha tatuado
Un holograma permanente
En el ojo de mi corazón

Esto es una
Imagen en mi conciencia
Brújula de mi alma
Barómetro de mi cuerpo
Faro de mis rebeliones
Encandilamiento de mis motines
Red para mis sirenas

Tu natalicio es un mapa
De mi existencia
Una justificación para
Para mis respiraciones
Testimonio de mis pasos
En avances invisibles
He inexplicables

Este aniversario es otra
Dadiva de Dios
Gesto de significado
En la adversidad
Una evocación más
A tus días longevos

Friday, October 03, 2008


It is here
Your hair falls
To the ground
The wind
Takes it away

Thursday, October 02, 2008


The word
Ignited a vision
A flash
In the mind
That’s what he told me
His rhythm changed
And he began
To play better
A youthful riff
Was born
Outside near the green truck
The neighbors seemed
To be on holiday

Wednesday, October 01, 2008


The most gorgeous
Creatures on earth
Sitting with me
Feeding me
Looking at me
Theirs eyes are
As delicious
As the food
That greets my taste buds

They have enslaved my attention
I watch their emotions
Working around the kitchen
Seasoning what I eat

They speak to each other
Their words sounding
Like bells
Like Buddhist bells

They smile at me
They take care of me
The energy of
Their message
Has an intention
Of velocity
Their momentum
Makes them even
More beautiful
So pretty
That they levitate
Around the table
Like Greek statues
Human goddesses

None of this is
Of my own doing
But if they are happy
I will be happy with them
Happy for them
If they cry
I will cry with them
I will cry for them
I can decipher their magic
But I rather enjoy it
And taste it
And listen to it
Be a witness
Of its grandiose effects
Of its great heights
Of its dangerous descent
But know I’ll study
Their spices
Their ingredients
Of love
These 2 sisters
Have an unsurpassed touch
Floating in my soup bowl

Tuesday, September 30, 2008


I saw the little girl
With a terrible infection
On her skin
Her eye is
My foremost concern
She could lose it
If not treated
I told her caretaker
She needs antibiotics


As I was being kissed
And bear hugged
By the beautiful women
My eyes searched
For you
I wanted you
To be there
You will know
I am telling
The truth
If you examine
How I was winking
At the satellites

Sunday, September 28, 2008


El mundo se está resbalando y no me importa
Porque está lleno de mentiras
Y si se descalabra entiendo que nosotros también
Estaremos en una sartén similar

Pero no está en nuestro (o en mí) estilo de trabajo
Y además hay unos sujetos sospechosos que se llaman memos

Ésos se encargan a control remoto pero se recogen
En la boca de un monstruo de colmillos filosos
Y a veces los pedidos se obtienen sin ningún problema
Pero otras veces se sufren laceraciones como las que dejan
Los cuchillos de un carnicero

No es que sea victima de la apatía
Hay cosas que sí me importan
Que me importan mucho

Los que sí me importan son aquellos que están en el mundo
Pero cuando uno de ellos sufre sufrimos todos
Quizá a eso de deba el cáncer y otras enfermedades

El sufrimiento de cada ser humano multiplicado por
Todos los que sufrimos en la faz de la tierra
Equivale a la ecuación del dolor

Lo que tiene menos prioridad son las finanzas
La bolsa de valores es la que está llena de ilusiones
Sueños digitales que se desvanecen
Como hierba seca

La verdadera Wall Street
Está entre California y Tijuana
Donde está esa pared metálica que separa familias
Que separa idiomas y dialectos
Ese barómetro de las clases sociales
Esa obstrucción que bloquea las arterias de la supervivencia
Ésa es más importante que la de Nueva York

Como los memos son invisibles
Esos pasan por arriba y por las partituras del metal

Al resbalarme me corté los tejidos del brazo
Y mi madre me llevó al hospital y los doctores
Suturaron mi piel y cobraron
Muy bien por hacer el bien

La segunda vez no me pudieron llevar al doctor
Porque faltaba dinero
Pero las plantas nunca le han faltado
Y puso una al fuego
Y la cocinó como si fuera comida
Y después la colocó junto a mi lesión
Y el espíritu de la planta reparó los daños

¡Oh las plantas del amazonas!
Gimen conmovedoramente las cabezas de Hollywood
Aun creo que no saben lo que dicen
Pero los memos sí saben y los hacen decir cosas
Que sólo los memos entienden

Cuando conocí a los memos me resbalé muchas veces
Me forzaron a tener la perspectiva de la serpiente
Y aprendí a tragar el polvo que levanta el viento
¡Malditos memos! ¡Como los odié!
Pero después me di cuenta que ellos subsisten
Con el odio de la gente
Decidí dejar de odiarlos tanto

Ahora sólo los odio poquito
Porque después de todo ellos me enseñaron la mansedumbre
Y les debo la adquisición de esa virtud
Y si dejo de odiarlos desaparecerán por completo
Y creo que son un mal cruel pero necesario

Los usureros son un mal innecesario
Crueles usureros
Malvados usureros
Perversos usureros
Salarios obscenos de los usureros
Financiadores de las guerras psicosomáticas
Conspiradores contra la humanidad
Denigradores de los gobiernos del mundo
Mamones porque son hijos de mamon

Los usureros les temen a los memos
Porque los memos pueden hacer que
El dinero o sea el narcótico de los usureros
Pierda todo su valor

Los usureros desean dominar el mundo
Para explotarlo y en enriquecerse
Los memos desean dominar el mundo
Porque no pueden controlar su instinto de reproducción
Desean nacer y renacer en las mentes de
Hombre y mujeres
Niños y niñas
Les gusta atormentar a los ancianos
Los memos no respetan clases sociales
Ni religión o partidos políticos

Casinos en llamas
Usureros ardidos
Usureros ardiendo
Usureros ustedes al fin
Son el combustible
Para la carne asada
Y los memos están felices
Porque su reproducción
Se multiplica con las altas temperaturas

Friday, September 26, 2008

I’ll be reading some of my work tomorrow


6th Street & Revolution Ave
Downtown Tijuana Mexico
7 PM



She eats
With her friend
There’s nothing sexier
Than watching a skinny girl eat

Her toenails are decorated
With the mystery color
Of radiance
Each of her toes
A mine of desire

Her friend is a bit too young
But the skinny one is hungry
And she walks just perfect
And she feels just right
And she has the perfect figure
The shape of a guitar
Crafted by a master

I like the tone of her voice
The high pitch is amusing
It’s sexy
It will blend well
In the Mediterranean

Aerodynamic nose
This is good for the runway

If she’s beautiful wearing scrubs
She be a killer wearing
A night dress
Oh did I tell you the way
She licks her fingers
And the color of her fingernails?

Too beautiful to be a doctor?
No… I think she just right

Innocence is true beauty
If lost
There’s a tremendous void
A macabre crater in the moon
A cavity for
A pool of sadness

So leave her alone
Don’t touch her!

Her beautiful bronze face
Deserves fullness
And richness
She’s worthy
Of a great treasure
Worthy of the
Fortune of simplicity

Thursday, September 25, 2008


The couple is in love
She has that sensuous semblance
The conveys pain & bliss

He carries himself
With a desperado energy
A Mexican Romeo

She is truly beautiful
I am happy for them

To think love
Usually dies in 3 days
And that sadness always
Comes with romance

Lord Almighty!

The way she walks
I have never witnessed
Such autochthonous beauty
Never seen
A prettier demoiselle

Good luck hermano
You are going to need it

Wednesday, September 24, 2008


The dump truck returns
The operator’s
Face seems uptight
As my student plays
His electric guitar
The sound
Illuminates all
Of our expressions
With unspeakable happiness
I find myself bursting
With laughter
And the guitar player smiles
And he keeps playing
As his eyes
Turn into
2 pretty cisterns
And I also feel like weeping
The distortion
The electricity
Produce the images
Of my forerunners
And they are
Also smiling


Retirement allows
The subject to remember
A beautiful FBI agent
She looked just like the bionic woman
But only prettier
Perhaps an improved clone
Of Lindsay Wagner
Of all places this happened
In Portland Oregon
What a delightful coincidence
I remember she was holding
A 38 with her exquisite hand
Wearing those popular
Windbreakers with the name
Of her employer on the back
Standing on the sidewalk
Looking up at a window
Securing a building
I and walked passed her
And she has the most striking smile
In the whole world
And I decided to kiss her
And she let me get close to her
She was the only beauty there
The rest were dangerous brutes with guns
Including the ones hiding in the building
So I thought the proper thing to do
Would be to returned her smile
Even though she had slightly increased
The opening of her lips
And I could fully see
The precious set of teeth
Like the ones Solomon describes in
His Song of Songs
Through the years I have seen her
At different places
And she looks better than ever

Monday, September 22, 2008


The school boys
Walk to the store
They look happy and healthy
I pray they stay that way
And I wonder if they are
Going to be like me
Retired before turning 40
Or if they’re a going to go a head
Make someone rich
Get a few marriages and some kids
Girlfriends on the payroll
New cars and new houses
And the never ending heart attacks
Then they walk out with
American Junk Food
In their hands and board their
University’s school bus
It looks brand new and ready
To take them where they
Want to go

Sunday, September 21, 2008


I lost a police cruiser
It was on multiple directions
At the same time
An indication of
Sudden death

The ocean was dirty
But the water warm
If the visitation comes
Under these conditions
I will follow it
But in the meantime
I’ll concentrate on the guy
Asking the questions

Is this your car?
Yes it is?
Are you sure?
I am positive
Where are you going?
I am going to Costco

The agent flashes a
Barack Obama smile
And signals me over
Into his country
Into my country
Into everybody’s country

Into the land of the free
The land of freedom
Freedom for immigrants
Dancing UFOS

Yes the land of milk and honey
Aspartame & Bisphenol
And the smell
Of brand new cars

My poor car
Yes my car
With all those dents
With all its microphones
With all those scratches
With them speakers
With all the Wires
The RF fields
Heartbreaking clones
Romantic Travelers
And brave microchips

Friday, September 19, 2008


Here comes the backhoe
She stops
And she’s fast
And she leaves
But she always
Comes back again

On the road
The samurai
Has its own trailer

Climbing up
The rocky road
The black bronco
Also has a trailer

The man of fatigue
Did a superb job
Because they come

The federal men
Selling juice
Subsidizing the
Electrification of vermin

They keep coming….

The decrepit oilmen
Selling trust
Selling hope
Selling whatever

The dump truck
Driving slowly
And looking
Towards the music

I also come
For no reason at all
Moving gravity
With an aftertaste
Of desire
Poking at cooked meat
With my fork
Opening the stomach
Of a quesadilla
And finding the truth
Has always been white

A melting certainty
Slippery like tequila

I exercise my taste buds
As I contemplate you

Your movements
The angles
Of your body
The continuity
Of your lips
The extension of your legs

Outside the heavy machinery
Keeps coming and going

Inside I
Rather be with you
Sitting next to you
As you try not to
Fall asleep

Thursday, September 18, 2008


Decoys are used
In hunting and
I wonder if the drill
On his hand is stolen
California construction
Is making a difference
And it comes
It arrives
I think they can’t
Resist the music
And they come closer
When they listen
To the melody
That comes forth
From the mouth
Of the toddler who
Rides a dirt bike

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


How can
I do battle
Against your love
If you feed me
You give me drink
And you are
So beautiful

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


Breakfast is
Better with live music
Hypnotic tones
Mixed with
Coffee & sugar
Strawberry aftertaste
Broken plates are
Better than drums
Steam rises
From whole wheat
A guitar played
By innocent hands
Is healthier than protein

Saturday, September 13, 2008


Do you dig it?
Yes, I dig it
I also dig the tattoo
On your ankle
Do you?
Yes, I do
What else you dig?
I dig you
I dig you too
Where you digging
When you asked
If I am a poet?
Polka dots?
What else you dig?
I dig trenches
In times of stillness
But I dig you the most
Because of tender memories
I dig what you have created
I dig your mind
I dig your miniskirt

Friday, September 12, 2008


Cloning is
Obstinate stupidity
Insistence in modification

Not everything
Can be altered

Do you think I am German scientist?

You better look
For blues eyes
And pallid skin elsewhere

You too
Don’t look
Like Erick Estrada

You too
Have a genetic flaw

You like
A mortified Doberman
With an owner
That has neglected
Your mind

Each time you wag
Your tale
You tell a lie

Like this
Are most likely
To autodestruct

Longevity is
Not one of your strengths
I think you know this

And if I adopted you
Police uniform and all
I couldn’t guarantee anything

It be so painful
To teach you new tricks
That would be inhumane

I will not torture

But you
Are so dirty
I will give you bath

What do you expect me to do?

Coming around
Interfering with work

Do you expect me to
Give you a bone?

You can not change what you are

I can’t help
To see you
To look at you
To think of you
To measure you

To place you in
A window of intuition

I know
It is a sad picture
But that’s what I do

I can not change what I am

Wednesday, September 10, 2008


The morning is like an empty cup
And the sun hurts my eyes
With it cancerous splendor

The sun has more radioactivity
Than a nuclear battle ship

I still believe love
Is what kills the best

Ultraviolet rays are kisses
Hidden inside the skin
The pores are reflectors
Of this energy

People camp on the side of the road
Selling human ideas
Selling human sins
And human souls

More than horrifying
This is tedious
Because no one wants
To buy insignificance

I rather go back to the hill
And stare at my empty cup
And let the sun burn
What is left of you

Radiation is my radio
Radiation is my car
Radiation with constellations
Radiation from afar

Only beauty
Is truly shocking
That’s why they fear
The Most High

Miserable servants
Up for sale
They’re about to be released
And when this happens
And their domination stops
The will no know
What to do

Monday, September 08, 2008


Una camioneta verde se detiene
Frente a la choza
Un zombie sale y habla con el chofer
El polvo los rodea

Over the years I have seen
A white man walking the dirt road
In this dusty town
I have seen him at liquor stores
Grocery stores
Mechanic shops
At the beach
Down the road from my home
Or walking past street corners
Or mixing concrete by hand
Or just standing behind me
Looking very dirty
Looking like a broken man

I suspect he might be American
But the simple fact that he’s white
Does not guarantee he's from the USA
As a matter of fact there’s more
Nonwhites in the States than Anglo-Saxons

He could be from:


Any place on earth….

Or just an Alien
With a fading disguise

I been tempted to give him a hand
Help him out because he is
In desperate need

But he looks at me
The same way
I look at him

How can I behave like an altruist
Without committing suicide?

How to approach him without
The concern of:

Killing or being killed?

I confess I don’t have a spectacular answer
My precious secrets
Will not be enough for this dilemma
But I can’t just look the other way
And pretend he does not exist

I will have to do what
I always do when
I ran out

Of options
Of answers
Of ideas
Of bullets
Of medicine
Of hope
Of sex
Of health
Of food
Of beer
Of friends
Of foes
Of work
Of leisure

I will have to pray

Pray to the God of the poor
The God of the slaves
The God of a hypnotized generation
The God of my peers whom are loosing their minds

A God of endurance
A God of supernatural strength

To the God of normalcy that hangs crucified
Inside Catholic temples
To the dismay and terror of escapists
And to the hope
Of those who feel just like Him

A God of reality
A God that knows pain first hand
A God that can relate with unspeakable feelings

A God who is invisible
A God who makes his children invisible
When they a crossing
The borders of oppression

A brown God
A dark God
A God with a popular name
A God that looks very human

Like a Mexican
A Palestinian
A Chicano or
A Blackman

A God that does not need machines
To levitate
To elevate
To go home
To come back for us

A God that likes to walk on the beach
And continues walking inside the water
But He never swims
He just keeps walking

A God that created everything
The visible
The invisible
Every flying being
Known or unknown
And every man & beast
Ruling the world or
Living underground

Thursday, September 04, 2008


I love your face
What if we were hunting together
And you were single
And we fell in love

What would happen
As we lay side by side
In the darkness
The burning flame of love
Would keep us awake
Watchful for the sharp twist to the heart

You have the presence of nature
You have an overwhelming semblance
Your beauty is strength

I tremble when I see you
Because I know what you are capable of

You are a ferocious river
A killing lioness
A hurricane
A tornado
A smile that disables

You are an alien
A dove
A fisherwoman
A favorite from God

I know why you are a conqueror
I know you
I love you
I wish you a long life
I see you
I dream you

My teeth are breaking apart
Like when
Saint Genevieve presence
Would pulverize
The pottery
The clay
The ceramics
All the brims where
Demons would hide
Awaiting the lips of children

Tonight you have won
The hearts of the world
The hope of the people
Deep grateful feelings
From those extraordinary creatures
The need you the most

Tuesday, September 02, 2008


That’s right
You wear your face
As it were heavy
As if the weight
Is going to break your neck

Most people could think
It’s your own fault
But I suspect you
Are being manipulated
Influenced by someone that spooked
The life out of you

I understand your position
And I think there’s hope for you
You are going to have to serve somebody
Remember that Bob Dylan tune?

I think someone spooked the life out of him too
And he started writing protestant songs

His premise
Is correct

You are in a world of pain
Might as well make that hurt
Work in your favor
And serve with
Fine & beautiful
Human beings

Monday, September 01, 2008


As you recover in your bed, I want you to know that I am with you, that you are more beautiful than ever, that soon everything will be wonderful…

When I was
On the operating table
I was told by one of the attendants:

“You are going to get very cold”

This operation was different from the rest
Never did I feel more alone

At first
As I entered the O.R.
I was afraid of the surgeon
I study his eyes
And he also
Looked afraid

And I felt a cruel coldness possessing my body
And I thought to myself:

This is it man
You are not going to make it this time
You are not coming out alive

And I clenched my teeth and my jaws
To enter the other side
To prepare for a possible
Encounter with God
Or the devil

And I felt a warm touch
On my right hand
And I looked to see
Who was touching me
And I could only see her eyes
She had the most beautiful eyes

The eyes of a Byzantine nun
The eyes of pious Muslim woman
The eyes of companionship
The eyes sympathy
The eyes of hope
The eyes of arson
The eyes of life
The eyes of true love

And I fell in to a comfortable sleep
With her touch

I thought of my first girlfriend
I thought of my first wife
I though of wine and
I thought of the Eucharist

And I reckoned all the other times
When I was in dire straits
There was always someone there

With me
For me

Like the time an American was in the hospital
In my room
Next to my bed
I did not understand
The English language back then
But she was trying to speak to me
To comfort me
To lift my spirits up
God only knows why she was altering her face
Perhaps she was tired and she was on her way out
And I was young and was on my way in
And my nurse
My beautiful nurse
Another one of those that emanates warmth
Oh how I loved her!
She told me my roommate’s codename was
La Belleza

I was 8 years old
But I felt like 18

In spite of feeling alone
You are never alone
There’s always someone
There’s always something
Near enough or from afar
Willing & able to touch
With you
For you

Saturday, August 30, 2008


When I asked you
If our brethren
Had started the war
You told me the truth

A pitch roof
Is bad for missiles

The speaker
Had the eyes
Of a dog
And you sat
Next to me
I felt so proud
And the lecturer
Scratched his beard

Again you were with me
And the federal judge
Ruled in favor
Of children
In favor of happiness
In favor of the future

How I admired you
That day when
Your gorgeous opponent
Tried to seduce you
To persuade you
To influence you
With her exquisite touch
But you did not released
Your harvest

And the city looked more beautiful
And I was struck with contemplation
Looking at the river
Through the window
In the skyscraper

You were always
So kind in church
And so fierce
At work

Father I came to understand
And to love
Your choice of diets
How happy I was
When our community
Ate together and
I saw you
Slicing pieces of ham

You made me
You thought me
You inspired me
And you terrified me
With things I did not understand
And you were so strong
How did you get so strong?

Friday, August 29, 2008


El perro─oveja
Es una oveja
Pero también
Un perro

Por eso
Le gustan las ovejitas
Y también las perritas

El perro─oveja
Es manso
Pero no menso

Sabe identificar
A otros híbridos
Sin asustar
A los niños

Thursday, August 28, 2008


Taxi drivers
And a middle age prostitute
With school supplies
In her hands

Assembled like
A heard of cattle
With mad cow disease

Gathering of champions
At God’s threshold
Luminaries of decay
Factories of poisoned visions

Waiting for time travel
Waiting for the truth
Waiting for the unknown
Waiting for anything but this

Their journey
Will not begin with
A secret government machine
Nor with the magic
Of shamans or witches
Or Pentecostal frenzies
Or mystical steps
Or Hollywood’s New Age

Their last card
Will be pulled from under the table
From under their sleeve
From the deep
From the dark
From the place
Where the sobbing starts
From the energy of a wolf
Leaking his own blood
On a sharp knife
From everywhere but here

The middle-class ones
Will pull the trigger
The rich ones
Will slid their wrists
In a bathtub
With boiling water

The poor will use a rope
But this will not workIt will break
It will give in
To the weight
Of their failings

They will hit the floor
The stronger ones
Will attain concussions
The weaker ones
Broken bones

Wednesday, August 27, 2008


How fast he learns
Music is intent

The guitar
Is the perfect companion

You can touch it softly
And create you own reality

His notes relay innocence
His music travels
Through drug addicted ghettos

His strumming
Guards the balance of happiness

His fingertips struggle
With chords of survival

Monday, August 25, 2008


You look like a star
My neurotic spy
Your sister is smaller than you
But I love you both
You 2 hang from the sky
Remarkable cosmetics
Of a superpower

Friday, August 22, 2008


Don’t try to
Pull your hand away
As I try to greet you

Comandante de Policia

A firm hand shake
Shows character

If you don’t like me
Just say so
But don’t hesitate

It doesn’t make
A good first impression

It doesn’t look good
In the presence
Of your subordinates

It was not my intention
To reel you into this

Art is sometimes
Full of surprises

Your police officers
Were euphoric
About the radios

Perhaps I can
Sell it to you too


“Sorry man, I fucked up” The cop said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I called the Comandante”
“Nothing to worry about right? We are amongst friends aren’t we?” I asked.
The police officer kept his silence. I looked at his nametag and it read Hector Estrada. I thought about Erick Estrada for a moment, but Hector was not as cool as Erick. I pressed on.
“Hector, there’s no need to be so concerned, it is only a radio. You do like it right?”
“Well yes, and if it is okay, I would like to buy one from you”
“Of course it is okay, and I would be happy to sell you one”
“Do you have cell phone?” Hector asked.
“I don’t like those things”
“Because they give you cancer”
“How so?”
“Do you know what a microwave is?”
“An electric oven?”
“Something like that, you see Hector, cell phones work with microwaves, and when you place the cell phone on you ear, what happens is that the microwaves enter your brain through your ear canal. And your brain begins to cook.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Hector and what is even more dangerous to your health is when you drive in your squad car using one of those machines. Once you are using a cell phone in the comfort of you own automobile, the microwaves convert you car into a microwave oven. You wouldn’t want to be turned into a taco. Would you?
Hector’s pupils looked like green beans, he looked towards his right at saw an unmarked white pick up truck enter the compound’s parking lot.
“The Comandante is here” Hector said.
“Relax Hector, everything will be alright”
I looked at a cop that was standing next to a wall behind Hector. He was in the background and he looked like he was about to cry.

Thursday, August 21, 2008


We drove towards grandma house. The 3 of us sat silently in the car; I was thinking how much I enjoyed the liturgy that had concluded a few moments ago. A good liturgy has the following elements: passion, drama, and a heavy dose of art.
The children perhaps were thinking of a theme park, or about the toys they would like to play with. Traffic began to slow down and soon we could see a checkpoint ahead.
“What happened dad?”
“It’s the Federales”
“What are they doing?”
“They making sure everything is alright”
“Look at their machine guns dad”
“Yes, machines guns” Now I knew what their precious minds were focusing on.
When our car approached the officer, he looked us, he scrutinized us, he studied us and he said:
“Pull over the side of the road” He had a chilango accent.
This was a first, since the Federal Police was restructured by the Calderon administration, that we were stop by them, the last time a federal pulled me over he had to as asked for a cigarette and then he let us go. I remember at that time my boys were two beautiful babies sound a sleep on their car seats. This time there would be no cigarettes since I don’t smoke anymore.
“Registration please” He asked as we looked at him silently.
“Here you are” I gave him a folded registration card that I took out from a coin pouch.
“Your driver license please”
“There you go” I took the card from my wallet and handed to him.
“What do you do?”
“I sell radios”
“Can you open the trunk?”
“Yes, I can” I got out of the car, walked towards the back of my car, inserted the key, and twist first to the right, and then to the left. The trunk opened. My briefcase was in plain view.
“Open the briefcase”
I opened the briefcase and step away from it. He inspected the overall contents except for the inner compartment.
“What in there?” He asked with a trembling voice refereeing to the unopened section.
“A computer”
“How long have you been in the radio business?” The pitch in his voice was shaking.
“I have been an operator for a very long time”
“You can go sir, sorry for the inconvenience”
“Have a nice day” I said.
The other policemen stop all oncoming traffic; I accelerated and began to drive on the road again.
“What do you learned today kids?”
“That persuasion is better than guns” My boys answered in unison and with boredom in their voices.
“That’s right children, never forget that”

Wednesday, August 20, 2008


Beautiful native girl
Walking next to me
At the grocery store
You make me feel alive

Old man whistling
As I pass you by
You reaffirm
My existence

Smiling soldier

Nervous businessman

Tourist town
With psychotic charm
Confirmation of consciousness

One man carwash

Sweating policeman

Friendly fisherman
Who likes to share
With you fellowman

Fisher of humans
Teacher of those
Willing to learn

Yellow airplane
You visit me daily
You force me to look up
Towards the heavens

Tuesday, August 19, 2008


“Let’s go fishing”
“Been watching too many fishing shows on the tube?”
“No, I am hungry”
“Charlie told me the best fishing is done by the PEMEX condominiums”
“We already have a grill, it be great to throw some fish on it”
“That’s a good idea, but I rather use the grill for carne asada”
“You know I am a vegetarian”
“I know man; I am just giving you a hard time, fishing is like hunting, is better in the early morning or the late afternoon”
“I see”
“Yeah man, we can use the boy’s fishing rods, all we have to do is get some used sparkplugs ─we are going to be fishing oily fish anyways─ from a mechanic and use them as sea leads, and we need to stop and pick some fishing hooks.
“Very good then”

We threw the stuff in the car and made our way towards town. I drove slowly because of all the potholes; this adds some longevity to the suspension of any used car. We could see the ocean down below us; it is this way on sunny days. We were heading west, traveling down the hill. One problem I have to face when I drive slowly is dust. Dust always catches with you. I have tried driving faster on other occasions to see if I could leave the clouds of dust behind just to watch them forming in front of me. Dust is just a problem one has to deal with it. Once we hit the pavement we were faced with other realities that need to be taken into consideration, like semi trucks, and taxi drivers, and unlicensed drivers (one of those put me out of order for more than a year) greedy cops and smiley soldiers sporting machine guns.

“Are you going to stop for the sparkplugs?”
“Yes, there’s a tire shop up here”
“Do you know them?”
“I think they know me”
“Alright, I’ll be right back” I got out of the car and approached the owner.
“Do you have any used sparkplugs? You know, for fishing?”
“No, sorry we do not” He showed some genuine consternation.
“How about nuts and bolts or any thing we can use for sea leads”
“No, you see, we fish too” The 3 grubby fellows that were sitting next to him smiled affirming their boss’s remarks.
“Okay, thank you”
“Wait” one of the grubby ones said.
“If you go up the road you will find a mechanic that does taxis, he will have your sparkplugs”
“Thanks man”
“Good luck”
I got back in my car and I was asked:
“Any luck?”
“No, but I was directed to the right location”
I drove a few blocks and we spotted a bunch of broken yellow taxis.
“I think we’re here” I said.
“I believe so” Cruz said.
“I be right back”
I spotted a guy in a taxi looking at me; I tried to approach him but he signaled with his hand, directing me to go inside the compound. I walked in and saw a guy under the hood of a yellow taxi.
“Buenas tardes” I said
He looked at me and did not say anything.
“Do you have sparkplugs? I pressed.
“How many do you need?”
“Wait here” He walked inside a shed and came out with 2 oily sparkplugs and handed them to me.
“Thank you” I said.
He did not say anything and went back to work under the hood of the car. As for me, I got back to my car and handed the 2 sparkplugs to Cruz.
“Got them” I said.
“Now lets get out of here, we still need to go and get the hooks”
“Do you want me to watch out for you as you back out?”
“No, I’ll be okay”

At the store I saw two girls who were stocking shelves, and I asked the prettiest one.
“Do you have fishing hooks?”
“Yes, I think we do, can you show him please” she said to her coworker.
“Yes, comes with me sir” She said. I followed her and noticed she had a beautiful body. We arrived at the sports department and she knelt next to a gun case and looked through the window of a wooden box.
“Sorry sir, we are out of hooks”
“Thank you for looking”
“You are welcome”
I needed to break a $100 dollar bill so I walked to the tortilleria, grabbed a kilo, and hurried back to the cash register.
“I can help you here sir”
“Yes, thank you” I place the kilo of tortillas next to her.
“Is that all?”
“Yes” I handed her the bill.
“Do you have anything smaller?”
“No” I smiled and then she smiled back.
“Can I give you your change in pesos?”
“No, dollars please” I smiled once again and I saw how her pupils minimized till they looked like two small planets.
“Okay then, I am going to get your change” She ran towards an office. She was pretty and reminded me of a girl I once wrote a song for. When she came back she gave me my change and wished me a good day. I did the same.
“No hooks man”
“Tough luck”
“I’ll try the radio”
“Good idea”
“CQ, CQ, CQ, where can I get fish hooks?
“Deportes Atlas” said the voice coming from the speaker.
“Thank you and 73”
“73” said the radio operator.
“Okay, to the sporting store it is”

It was difficult to find parking in downtown but with persistence we managed to park in front of the store.
“You know the drill, I be right back?”
“I know”
“May I help you” said the clerk behind the counter.
“Yes, I need fishing hooks”
“You came to the right place, come over here and let me show you” The case was filled with all sizes and styles of hooks.
“I am looking for small ones, I am fishing from the shore”
“What do you thing of these ones?” He showed me a size 6 hook.
“Perfect, I’ll takes 6 of them”

We drove towards the beach looking for the fabled PEMEX Condominiums. Charlie always told incredible stories of successful fishing at the place. I got lost and ended up a military check point.
“Is the way to the PEMEX Condominiums? I asked
The military man was carrying a side arm, it might have been a 9 millimeter or a 45, it was hard to tell. He was probably a Captain; I could see 3 soldiers with him carrying M16’s.
“No, this the Thermoelectric Plant, you can’t fish here but I show you how to get to the condominiums” He said with a smile.
“Is it true there’s good fishing there?”
“Yes, but as you know, is a matter of luck”
“You are right”
“Good luck”
We drove away towards the condominiums. I was eager to cast my bait, but I knew we had more than enough time.
“Did you see the face of the soldier on the booth?
“He looked preoccupied”
“Yes, I hope they don’t shoot us with a bazooka”
“No, the Captain looks like a good man”

At the PEMEX condominiums we did not see any spectacular fishing spot; there was no parking and no way to access the beach from those government buildings.
“No wonder” said Cruz
“All the good looking girls we see at the main boulevard are coming from here”
“I think you are right, I think Charlie is also right, but I don’t feel like fishing inside a penthouse.
“Let’s get out of here; we’re going to the PEMEX Beach”
“We need to get close to the dikes… that’s were the fish are”
“Great, perhaps we can get on top of them and fish from up there”
“No, I don’t think the soldiers like that, they’re very protective”
“There just making a big deal out of nothing”
“They don’t like accidents”
“Yes, better play it safe”

We parked the car and walked about half a mile to the dikes. I was tempted to drive on the sand, but did not want to risk getting stuck, at any rate, exercise is medicine. We got close to the rocks, rigged our fishing rods and cast away. There were other fishermen doing better than us. Nonetheless we were fishing. We were concentrating on all the fish we could get.
“What’s up with the rabbit hunter?” said Cruz.
“He’s protecting the dikes, just doing his job”
The soldier walked on the rocks, he was wearing cammo fatigues and a M16 hanged from his shoulder. His face was that of a happy child, playing on his back yard.

Monday, August 18, 2008


I like my
Hippo boots

Each step
Resurrects a memory

I can climb
To heaven
With my
Hippo boots

I can smile
All the way
To happiness
When my feet
Are surrounded
With my
Hippo boots


The creator
Of conspiracies
Enters the
Children’s playground
He has a
Beautiful wife
He carries
A baby
In his arms
And another one
Of his offspring
Walks beside him

Sunday, August 17, 2008


La pareja de nativos
Caminan por
Un lado de la carretera
Pintoresca aparición
Siguen el camino
Avanzan hacia abajo
Saludando al polvo
Y ella habla
Por un celular

Friday, August 15, 2008


The cowboys hats moved up & down. Their drunken owners dancing to Norteño Corridos. Their wives, lovers, or girlfriends, were shaken across the dance floor like worn puppets. The Band was good. Indian looking fellows played with a lot of feeling. The accordion sounded great. Superb funeral music. Since I don’t like to dance just for fun I sat at the bar and tried to write my way out of a dilemma. Nothing in particular, I just like to think in those terms when I am writing. I like to think I am solving some kind of problem. I looked towards my right and I saw a goofy guy standing to close for comfort.

“What do you want?” I asked.
“An ashtray”
“Where are you from?”
“Sorry I don’t smoke”
“I need an ashtray”
“Why don’t you get it from the waiter”
“Passed me that ashtray” he pointed to a black ashtray next to me.
“Aren’t you Muslim?”
“I thought Mulsims did not do booze, look at you, you’re all fucked up… not that I care, we Catholics are allowed to enjoy good liquor. I just don’t have your ashtray”
“You know, when I used to smoke, I used to smoke Camels”

The smiley Iranian stopped smiling and walked away.
Ashes… I have been around ashes all my life. It’s just too much.
I also got up walked outside of bar and I could feel the ocean’s breeze and it felt good. I looked at the lights of the nearby boats that pierced the darkness and I wished them good luck.

Sunday, August 10, 2008


“What’s in the suitcases?”
“A whole lot of love”
I did not say that because Led Zeppelin was playing on the radio. I said it because it was true.
“Love uh?”
“Yes, you want me to show you?”
“No! Don’t open them! You can go now.
And we were inside America just like that.


Can be concealed
Inside a suitcase
Or inside a sub─heart

Keeps you warm
When it is cold
And it keeps you cool
When you are in hell

Always pray for love
Because love is water
And just like water
Love can hurt
Or even kill you

Is a being
That’s always
Changing colors

Love fits everywhere!

Love is hated
In an awful
Lot of places
Love tastes good

Love looks good
So good that
You feel fire
Seizing your spine

Is before the big bang!

Will be
The brightness
Of the end

Wednesday, August 06, 2008


“Give me your wallet!”
I handed the migra my wallet as he held my border─crossing card.
“And what about you?”
The migra asked my companion.
“I am with him.”
Answered my lovely escort.
“You 2 come with me.”
The migra instructed us to follow him. He took us to an office on the side of the building. There we found a Midwestern looking fellow with his boots on a metal desk. His neck was red.
“This is the girlfriend”
Our guard retorted.
“Fiancée” I corrected.
“Leave them here, I’ll deal with them”
Said the migra on the desk. The first migra left the room and closed the door. I felt the pressure of claustrophobia beginning to take a hold of both of us.
“I don’t have any money” I said
“Shut up” He said.
“Fuck you” I softly replied.
The migra got up with his baton on his right hand and advanced towards me.
“No, please officer” Said my partner with tears in her blue eyes.
“Look what you did you stupid brute. She’s pregnant” I said.
“Sit down you motherfucker!”
The migra yelled as he held his baton over my head. I winced and then sat down on a metal chair.
“Stay here and don’t move!” ordered the redneck as he walked out the room and slammed the metal door.
“I am scared” she said sobbing.
“Don ‘t be afraid, come here and sit next to me”
“What’s going to happen?”
“They’re going to let us go”
“How do you know?”
“Because we haven’t committed any crimes and you are American, young, beautiful, and extremely attractive. Good qualities for a witness to have”
“We are in trouble”
“No, this is almost over”
“I don’t feel good”
“Breath in…. breathe out…”
The door opened and a gentle looking, grandpa─type, churchgoing─brand of migra entered the room and gave us our documents.
“Okay kids you can go”
“You see, we can go… thank you sir”
“All right goodbye” said the older migra with a tired voice.
“Thank you sir” She said.
“Okay, okay… bye bye” He said.
“Let’s go” I said
And we walked away and entered California and passed the fast food restaurants and I checked to see that there were no more tears in her lovely eyes and we kept walking. And the sun was making her red hair change in color intensity.
“You know?” she said.
“We should get a bomb”
“A bomb?”
“Yes, honey… a bomb”
“Too much damage…. very primitive… very unaesthetic. What we need is a device that helps good people; that inspires and empowers those who are against evil, but at the same time, something that stops the bad folks from causing more damage.
“Juan?” she asked.
“I love you”
“I love you more”


"I have an alien implant on my scrotum
It was placed there by a green─woman
She used her tongue to perform the operation"

─ ¿Entonces qué?
─ ¿Qué de qué?
─ ¿No te gusta mija?
─ Sí, está muy bonita.
─ No te tienes que preocupar absolutamente de nada. Yo me encargaré de todos los gastos de la boda.
─ ¿De cuál boda?
─ De su boda─ ¿De la boda de su hija?
─ Sí, de la boda de ustedes, de mija y tú.
─ ¿No cree que nos estamos apresurando demasiado?
─ No, al contrario, creo que estamos perdiendo el tiempo.
─ Pero si ni siquiera la conozco, sólo la he visto una vez , aunque sí es muy hermosa, se ha de parecer a su mamá… quizá ocupemos conocernos más, salir a dar una vuelta a la playa, al cine, a cenar.
─ No digas tonterías, conmigo no vas a jugar.
─ No estoy jugando ni diciendo tonterías…. si estuviera jugando con usted le diría algo como:
“su panza cuelga de la hebilla del cinturón,
la puedo abrir como a un zipper
y sus intestinos caerán en el suelo
y nos ensuciaran los zapatos.”
─ No estés chingando.
─ Usted empezó.
─ ¿Entonces como le vamos hacer?
─ Pues primero creo que tenemos que conocernos. Hace unos momentos, cuando ví a su hija, sus ojos emanaban una mirada tierna y dulce hacia mí. Está es una buena señal. Quizá podamos llegar a entendernos. Ya sabe usted lo complicado que son los misterios del amor.
─ Más vale que esto te de resultado.
─ Señor, recuerde que yo lo estoy ayudando a usted. No usted a mí.
─ No te hagas pendejo. Yo sé que ocupas el trabajo.
─ Recuerde que mi trabajo es hacer lo correcto.
─ Por favor, es que, estoy muy preocupado por ella…
─ No se aflija, tenga fe, recuerde que el dinero no es la solución para todos los problemas.
─ Gracias por ayudarme.
─ De nada señor. Sea paciente. Ya verá que todas las cosas van a salir bien.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008


La patrulla nos perseguía a toda velocidad. Y nosotros nos reímos nerviosamente y fumábamos cigarrillos. Por el espejo retrovisor podía ver el rostro del único policía dentro del vehiculo. El rostro del chofer tenía todos los tintes de avaricia y las manchas de la codicia. Sospecho que por las mismas razones no reportó la persecución. Quizá sabía de lo que estaban repletos los maletines que llevábamos en la cajuela. Y mi chica apuntaba con su M16 y se apoyaba, en parte, en el asiento en que íbamos sentados. Y me preocupé un poco porque sabía que una vez que empezaran las detonaciones el cristal trasero de nuestro vehiculo se destrozaría mandado miles de astillas de vidrio por doquier. También sabía que Rosa contaba con el mejor entrenamiento militar y que no iba a sacar la mitad de su cuerpo por la ventana de su puerta para empezar a disparar.
─ Espera. Pronuncié.
─ ¿Por qué?
─ Porque no quiero que les des en la madre a mis tímpanos.
─ Te dije que me dejaras manejar.
─ ¿Estás loca?
─ No estoy loca, tu sigue manejando y yo me encargo del chota.
─ No, espera si nos detenemos te puedes bajar del carro y te arreglas con él.
─ No, es demasiado tarde, ya me vio apuntando.
─ Bueno por lo menos déjame bajar las ventanas para reducir el….
¡Pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop pop!
El sonido del .223 invadió el interior del vehiculo, el de nosotros y el del policía también, pero a diferencia de nuestros efectos auditivos, el agente ha de haber escuchado algo similar a un golpeteo metálico antes de partir hacia el más allá. Por mi retrovisor podía ver nuestra ventana desecha y también la patrulla llena de hoyos, detenida en medio de la carretera, quedándose atrás a consecuencia de nuestra velocidad. La del carro y la de Rosa.
─ ¿Éxito? Indagué.
─ Sí.
─ ¿No más chota?
─ No.
─ ¿Segura?
─ Sí, lo convertí en una botella. En un rocío muy colorado.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008


El canto
De las sirenas
Me fascina

Me convierte
En un loco alegre

Es música
Para enamorados

Códigos auditivos
De aventuras accidentadas

Momentos semánticos
Que provocan
El eco de perros

Tuesday, July 29, 2008


She moves
With ethereal motions
Dressed in white
Most of the time


─ Juan?
─ Yes?
─ Do you have a daughter?
─ Why do you ask?
─ Sometimes when I read you work, I get this feeling, that you have a daughter or daughters.
─ Sometimes I feel the same.
─ Do you?
─ Do I what?
─ Do you have a daughter?
─ The truth of the matter is that there are some girls out there that I care for very much. I feel so much for them that at times I see them as my offspring.
─ Can I be your daughter?
─ You want me to be your Daddy?
─ Yes.
─ You will have to stop smoking dope, and you will have to stop relying on electronic devices to get things done. Learn to trust your intuition, rely more on nature, and put the artificial away. Discover how to do it by your own juices.


A world is tired
Wheels everywhere
Rubbery equations
Oily products

Touching the roughness
The hardness
The blockage
Of arteries
Chocking the planet

I loaned you
My key
And you sold it back
To me

Is fading away