Friday, January 15, 2010


“He used to live
And played guitar
In a shed
10 years playing the same songs”

Maybe in the same place

I remembered his statement
As I moved
Dusty boxes

Looked at unopened
Bank statements

Studied the twisted wires
Of old cell phones

“6 months later
He was a millionaire”

I remembered his words
As I threw the bank correspondence
Into the garbage

He didn’t say
He blew his brains out
With a shotgun
But both of us knew it

I thought of that
When I saw my old canteen
On the dusty floor

I put the waste
In the green garbage can
Then I went inside
To eat some bread

Thursday, January 14, 2010


Life is the danger of music
The headache of dissonant chords
The unnoticed torture of the eye

The rapid transaction of your response
The contemplation of your demise
The pondering of your laughter
The echo of my smile

My teeth sinking on the food between my lips

Life is the pursuit of a mirage
The deciphering of need
The seduction of necessity

Life is
Your nervous presence on my counter
Your mischievous grin
Your hand reaching for a business card

You walking out the door
Me looking at your back

Life is being nice to your enemies before they die
Shaking hands
Shaking extremities at the same time

Sobbing when they cross the Rubicon
Taking a deep breath and marching onward

Life is being homeless and in darkness
Fed and in opulence
Talking and being kind to complete strangers

While reading their thoughts and intentions
While pretending not to notice
They are far-far-far away

Tuesday, January 12, 2010


I am a persecutor
A persecutor in stride
fast forwarding
Your disappearing ambushes

I am a persecutor
Your wrath
I can convert
In energy

I am persecutor
Of nightmares
Of your dreams
And wishes

I am persecutor
Of whatever I want to persecute
I like precutting nothing at all
That’s what I like best!

I am persecutor
Of stories
Of love poems
Of life
Of happiness

I am persecutor of this
I am a persecutor of that
I am persecutor of you
Even if you think
You don’t exist

Sunday, January 10, 2010


me caes de a madres

te tengo identificado
en el cuerpo humano
igual en los senos
que en la próstata
en los pulmones
que en la garganta
y en la lengua
y en los labios

cangrejo glotón
cómete ésta
me refiero a la muerte cáncer

húndete en la arena
que te lleve el mar
húndete junto al drenaje y el llanto

codiciosa tenaza
rómpete contra
las rocas de la playa

y cáncer
del azar deseo salado
de marte visita clandestina
de penas arma que multiplica

vete mucho a la chingada
vete muy lejos allá
donde no hagas daño

bicho raro
travieso malvado
déjanos en paz

y cáncer
también sé
pedir por las buenas
pero no lo haré

vete o te envenenaré
veneno en mis tejidos