Se ese man que lo hizo desde una torre que le heredó su padre. Se ese man que moría por aventura y lo hizo sin un peso en el bolsillo. Se ese man que lo hizo en libretas viejas y bolígrafos con poca tinta. Se ese man que lo hizo sin olvidar a todos los… Continue reading Se ese man
Category: Poems
Mentor
Sometimes I think about being for someone else what I needed the most and lost to time and death. Mentors like fathers are not immune to the call from the beyond. They may leave you at any time like the tobacco that sits on the purple table blown away to oblivion by the wind –reluctant… Continue reading Mentor
Aquí
Aquí voy yo imaginándome cosas, cosas que podrían ser, pero no son. Aquí mientras recojo la cama escuchando a los hermanos cantar en la casa de mi madre y mi padre. Aquí que solo me han dejado. Aquí donde la miré ayer desde el otro lado del jardín. Donde lágrimas derramé porque un día ya… Continue reading Aquí
The Struggle
Another Cripmas around the corner and she quarrels over some Christmas sticks I put around the house, so it’ll smell good till we put the tree up. Reading the paper I have an outburst, thought she’d appreciate the fresh sniffs, but I was wrong. So often good acts unnoticed, but mistakes never missed or ceased… Continue reading The Struggle
Cuarto creciente
Desde la primera planta escucho a tres señores decirme que estoy perdiendo el tiempo pensando, mientras observo al caldero y escucho las palomitas reventar. “Fuerza de voluntad y disciplina”, me recuerda la voz del doctor. Un hombre de diversos negocios; un hombre de consejos. Me muestra una foto de un amigo desaparecido que conocí en… Continue reading Cuarto creciente
74’s
It was a cool Halloween morning when I got my AD 74’s in a town founded by an Irishman, a town nobody knows, and nobody cares about —I finally got my 74’s. “Careful your heart doesn’t burst in your chest, kid.” She didn’t really say that, but maybe I heard it that way. F90.0 “You… Continue reading 74’s
Newman
I slam the pen down on my desk, not hard, but the exasperation is noticeable. I step out now into the rooftop balcony with a plastic resealable bag. I sit down on a red foldable camping chair and attempt to light a Little & Wild with some matches from the J.C Newman Cigar Co., I… Continue reading Newman
The Land of the Hicks
So, we were standing there in the scorching northern heat. We had to wait until one o’clock for the parcel customer service office to open up. I dressed sharp, trying to do some Crockett action, but my colors were too dark. A lady with a blown-out knee stepped out of her white Mercedes Benz SUV,… Continue reading The Land of the Hicks
I can only write what comes from the soul
I can only write what comes from the soul, my greatest drivers — sorrow, solace, and despair. I can only write what comes from the soul, these drivers are terrible things, they bring about an impossible way to live. I can only write what comes from the soul, sorrow, solace, and despair my constant visitors;… Continue reading I can only write what comes from the soul
Ms. Y
Walking down from the nice hotel and casino down in the burning south. A checkered corridor leads me to a room with some books. Larsen is there, so is Kinney. A and I head to Jalapeño´s, then to Chango’s. The walk takes us from Reina, to Union, to Concordia, and finally to Luna. If you… Continue reading Ms. Y