ómnibus democrático

puertas abiertas para compartir percepciones y divagues / open doors to share perceptions and disgressions

Friday, March 18, 2011

el caminante

se asoma a la orilla
la huele
comienza a caminar sin ganas
¿alguna vez las tuvo?

sus pasos pesados
cargados de nostalgia 
de almejas cosechadas en la arena

las viejas casas ya no existen
el faro ¿fue un producto de sus escasos sueños?
¿o se oxidó junto a los buques?
cada tanto grita al mar 
buscando una respuesta necesaria
como la arena que lo sostiene
asi se pasa el resto de sus dias

caminando
asi  
desvelado 
desesperado
sin poder admitir el paso del tiempo
se limita cada tanto a respirar hondo
ese olor primitivo
que lo acerca a su ilusión
que lo separa de su muerte

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Ballade of the Poverties

There's the poverty of the cockroach kingdom and the
rusted toilet bowl
The poverty of to steal food for the first time
The poverty of to mouth a penis for a paycheck
The poverty of sweet charity ladling
Soup for the poor who must always be there for that
There's poverty of theory poverty of swollen belly shamed
Poverty of the diploma or ballot that goes nowhere
Princes of predation let me tell you
There are poverties and there are poverties

There's the poverty of cheap luggage bursted open at
immigration
Poverty of the turned head averted eye
The poverty of bored sex of tormented sex
The poverty of the bounced check poverty of the dumpster
dive
The poverty of the pawned horn of the smashed reading
glasses
The poverty pushing the sheeted gurney the poverty
cleaning up the puke
The poverty of the pavement artist the poverty passed out on
pavement
Princes of finance you who have not lain there
There are poverties and there are poverties

There is the poverty of hand-to-mouth and door-to-door
And the poverty of stories patched up to sell there
There's the poverty of the child thumbing the Interstate
And the poverty of the bride enlisting for war
There is the poverty of stones fisted in pocket
And the poverty of the village bulldozed to rubble
There's the poverty of how would you ever end it
Princes of weaponry who have not ever tasted war
There are poverties and there are poverties

There's the poverty of wages wired for the funeral you
Can't get to the poverty of bodies lying unburied
There's the poverty of labor offered silently on the curb
The poverty of the no-contact prison visit
There's the poverty of yard-sale scrapings spread
And rejected the poverty of eviction, wedding bed out on street
Prince let me tell you who will never learn through words
There are poverties and there are poverties

You who travel by private jet like a housefly
Buzzing with the other flies of plundered poverties
Princes and courtiers who will never learn through words
Here's a mirror you cna look into:  take it:  it's yours.

for James and Arlene Scully
2009


Adrienne Rich (Tonight No Poetry Will Serve, Poems 2007-2009)

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Mendiga voz

Y aún me atrevo a amar
el sonido de la luz en una hora muerta,
el color del tiempo en un muro abandonado.

En mi mirada lo he perdido todo.
Es tan lejos pedir. Tan cerca saber que no hay.


Alejandra Pizarnik

Saturday, March 5, 2011

mové la bicicleta

mové la bicicleta
que la vieja se me cae
abrochándose los labios
en dramático efecto

seguramente la vecina
no considera que nos
los vecinos somos
estamos existimos

en este momento
en que me sentaba
con el café y el porro
mi mente se distrae

no más poemas
ni otros versos
gozo la caída
con las puertas abiertas