My Daughter's First Birthdaydora

Ángel Guinda

Boxes

What would an Indian and would be right.
"You have organized life in boxes.
born and leave them in a box,
your house is a box, and the rooms are smaller boxes
.
climb up to the house in a box,
down the street in a box.
travel in a box.
sleep and make love on a box.
Through a box see the world.
Moving house: they put everything into boxes. And when they die

also introduce them in a box.
Banks and savings banks have cash,
establishments have and do box. "
Everything is made to fit.
We fit your life.
Some do not fit, and we reinserted.

Bags

Life bursts from a bag of water.
Your money or your life. Bag
employment, unemployment exchanges.
head Dressed in a plastic bag is a procedure
suicide. A pocket-
never be repaid-
much that many disbursed.
Others invest in the stock market.
all feel dirty without his bag of toiletries.
For those who have nothing, yanking
bag is a day of life.
A bursary opens a world
a travel bag closes a dream. Wind rolls
bags on the floor, hang them
of trees, the shoots through the roof.
bag of bread, oil bourse. Break out of sadness
empty pockets.
much does set the shopping bag. How well adjusted
bag pleasure.
hide the bodies in bags
to not bother us.
The garbage bag is our biography.

CAPSIZING

I have fear in my voice
Xavier Villaurrutia

strokes life scare me.
I'm afraid of the shadow of the blood, the cross
the wreckage, my brain,
the sky, the sea, the star, the infinite. I fear
doses of tar
choking the air I breathe;
the voices I hear in the back of my eyes.
I'm afraid
the tremendous shock that wakes me every morning.
I'm afraid of heights, the precipice, the scream
the atrocity and silence.
scares me shake my memory,
what attracts me, what repels me,
pain, joy. I'm afraid
be accompanied and to be alone.
I'm afraid that time I swallow.
Fear is afraid of my fear,
because I am afraid and I do fear.
I am afraid of myself so out
without knowing what led me here. "

Older Snowmobiles For Sale

Vladimir Maïacovski

1. So commonly

Love is given to any
but ...
between employment, money and other
,
day after day,
heart hardens the ground. Over the heart
carry the body, the body
shirt, but this is very
. Only
idiot
put the cuffs, and chest
covered it with starch. From old
repent.
woman makeup. Man makes
ejercicios con sistema Müller,
pero ya es tarde.
La piel multiplica sus arrugas.
El amor florece,
florece,
y después se deshoja.

* * *

2. De niño

Yo fui agraciado en el amor, sin límites.
Pero de niño,
la gente preocupada, trabaja.
And I escaped
the river Rion,
and wandered around doing nothing.
my mother is angry:
"Chiquillo damn!"
My father threatened me with the belt.
But I, I earned three rubles
false
and played with the soldiers under the walls.
Without the weight of the shirt.
without the weight of the spoils,

and I swam in the sun burned Kutais ¹,
until the stitches gave me heart. The sun was amazed
:
"is just as well have a heart

the boy insists."
How does this piece fit into a meter,
the river,
I
and LF peaks?

1 District where the poet was born.

* * *

3.
Adolescent Youth has
thousand jobs.
studied grammar to stun them.
To me, threw me
the fifth year, moth-eaten
and went to prison in Moscow.
home in our small world, for the beds appear
poets of curly hair.
What do they know these lyrical anemic?
To me, then.
taught me to love in jail.
What is worth compared to this, the sadness
the Bois de Boulogne?
What is worth compared to this,
sighs before a seascape?
I, therefore, I fell in love
window 103 ² camera,
the "Office funeral." ³
Some people view the sun every day and is proud
.
"N0 worth much its rays" say.
But I
then
a sunshine yellow,
reflected on my wall,
would have an entire world.

² Number camera from prison where he was imprisoned for a year Mayacovski
. ³
and people called to the prison.

* * *

4. My university

Do you know French,
subtract, multiply
? Declining
beautifully! That decline
!
But, hey,
Did you could sing a duet,
with the buildings? Do you perhaps

language includes trams?
Man sometimes

just hatched and already has books under his arm, and notebooks written
.
I
learned the alphabet on signs,
flipping pages of tin and iron.
Teachers
take the land, the stark
,
the wreck, and teach
:

"All it is just a small balloon, round.
But I learned
elbows with geography.
Not surprisingly I slept well on the ground.
Historians torment themselves with important questions:
- Was not red or Barbarossa's beard?
it be!
I do not like to get into the lies web. Moscow
I know, any of its stories.
Dobroliúbov talk about (to hate him) ¹
but his name is against it, protest
family.
I
since childhood.
learned to hate fat people,
to those sold for a meal.
They sit, chat
,
and to please the lady, sounding their poor

ideas with their heads full of coins.
I conversed only
with buildings,
and water intakes were my interlocutors, with the window
attentive listening ear, roofs
heard what I threw the ear.
And then
night,
about one thing or the other

we spent talking, moving
"sinhueso."

¹ Russian writer, his name means literally
loving kindness: a word of Mayacovski juegfo

* * *

5. Adult

The older people have issues.
blondes have pockets.
Loving?
Please
a hundred rubles.
And I
homeless and homeless
apples in his pockets broken, wandering
amazed.
If at night,
get the best costumes,
rest the soul of widows or married.
To me
Moscow, choked me hugs with their rings
infinite spaces.
In hearts, rings
watch lovers.
couples are exalted in the bed of love.
And I
looking crazed, wild
pulse of the city
sleeping with "The Passion" of their seats.
¹ Enter passions!
Trepáos with love!
From today I do not own heart!
In the others I know, "
the heart is at home,
chest,
anyone knows.
Me,
anatomy went crazy,
'm all heart, and throbs
everywhere.
Oh!
had many springs in twenty years on and full.
The heart has its enclosure, and loading
unspent
is simply unbearable. Unbelievable
,
not the verse,
truth.

¹ "The Passion" square in Moscow, Pushkin Square today.

House Designing Games

Alejandra Pizarnik

A la espera de la oscuridad

Ese instante que no se olvida
Tan vacío devuelto por las sombras
Tan vacío rechazado por los relojes
Ese pobre instante adoptado por mi ternura
Desnudo desnudo de sangre de alas
Sin ojos para recordar angustias de antaño
Sin labios para recoger el zumo de las violencias
perdidas en el canto de los helados campanarios.

Ampáralo niña ciega de alma
Ponle tus cabellos escarchados por el fuego
Abrázalo pequeña estatua de terror.
Point out the troubled world at your feet
die at your feet where the swallows
shivering with fear about the future
Tell the sea breeze

moisturize the only words that is worth living for.

But that moment nothing sweaty
Nestled in the cave of destiny
Handsfree
to say never to give butterflies handsfree A dead children

mirror Roads

X
Como quien no quiere la cosa. Ninguna cosa. Boca cosida. Párpados cosidos. Me olvidé. Adentro el viento. Todo cerrado y el viento adentro.

XII
Pero el silencio es cierto. Por eso escribo. Estoy sola y escribo. No, no estoy sola. Hay alguien aquí que tiembla.

XIII
Aun si digo sol y luna y estrella me refiero a cosas que me suceden. ¿Y qué deseaba yo?
Deseaba un silencio perfecto.
Por eso hablo.

AWAKENING

A Lion Ostrov

Lord
The bird cage has become
and has flown
and my heart goes crazy
because death howls and smiles
wind behind my delusions


What shall I do with fear
What shall I do with fear no longer

dancing light in my smile
or pigeons burning stations in my ideas
My hands have stripped
and gone where death
taught to live in the dead

Lord punishes me
air being behind the air

there are monsters who drink from my
blood

disaster is when the vacuum is not empty
is the moment to put the lip lock
hear the scream convicted
consider each of my names hanged
nothing. Lord



twenty years I have also my eyes are twenty years old
and yet say nothing

Lord
I have spent my life in an instant
The latest burst
innocence is now or never ever
or just got

How not kill myself in a mirror
and disappear and reappear in the sea where a big ship
expect me
with the lights on?

How could I extract the veins
and I
scale them to flee across the night?

The principle has given birth to the end
Everything will remain the same
The smiles worn

interested Interest Questions from stone to stone
The gestures that mimic love
Everything will remain the same

But my arms to embrace the world insist
because
still taught that it is too late

Lord
Throw the coffins of my blood


I remember my childhood when I was old
Flowers
died in my hands because the wild dance of joy are


destroyed the heart I remember the black
sunny mornings as a child ie yesterday

ie
centuries
Lord
The bird cage has become
and has devoured my hopes

Lord
The bird cage has become
What shall I do with fear

HIJA DEL VIENTO

Han venido.
Invaden la sangre.
Huelen a plumas,
a carencias,
a llanto.
Pero tú alimentas al miedo
y a la soledad
como a dos animales pequeños
perdidos en el desierto.

Han venido
a incendiar la edad del sueño.
Un adiós es tu vida.
Pero tú te abrazas
como la serpiente loca de movimiento
que sólo se halla a sí misma
porque no hay nadie.

Tú lloras debajo del llanto,
you open the hood of your desires
and are richer than night.

But it's so lonely words
commit suicide.

P-51 Mustang Vs Mitsubishi Zero

...soy cientificaa no se que hago aca!!!

Streaming Programs South Park

Oliverio Gironde

XVIII, Scarecrow

Mourn to tears. Mourn
profusely. Mourn
digestion. Mourn
sleep.
Mourn at the gates and ports. Mourn
kindness and yellow.

Open the taps,
the floodgates of tears. Soak
soul
shirt. Flood
sidewalks and walking,
and save us, to swim, our tears. Assist

anthropology courses,
crying. Celebrate birthdays
family
crying. Cross
Africa,
crying.

Mourn as a cacuy,
like a crocodile ...

if it is true that crocodiles
cacuies and never cease to mourn.

cry all, but mourn
well. Crying
nose
with his knees.
Crying for the navel,
by mouth. Mourn

love,
of boredom,
joy. Mourn
tails,
of flatus, of thinness. Mourn
improvising
memory.
Mourn all the insomnia and all day!

What we hope


 Tardará, tardará.

Ya sé que todavía
lo émbolos, 
la usura,
el sudor, 
las bobinas
seguirán produciendo,
al por mayor,
en serie,
iniquidad,
ayuno,
rencor,
desesperanza;
para que las lombrices con huecos portasenos,
las vacas de embajada,
los viejos paquidermos des esfínteres crinudos,
se sacien de adulterios,
diamonds, caviar
,
remedies

I know it still will take many years for these crustaceans


asphalt and dirt are cleaned head
move away from envy, not idolize
rage,
not worship the imposture, and leave your cradle

of oppression,
of blindness,
of meanness,
of dung.

But maybe one day,
before the land is tired of lure
y brindarnos su seno, 
el cerebro les sirva para sentirse humanos,
ser hombres,
ser mujeres,
-no cajas de caudales
ni perchas desoladas-,
someter a las ruedas,
impedir que nos maten,
comprobar que la vida se arranca y despedaza
los chalecos de fuerza de todos los sistemas;
y descubrir, de nuevo, que todas las riquezas
se encuentran en nosotros y no bajo la tierra.

Y entonces…
¡Ah! ese día
abriremos los brazos
sin temer que el instinto we bite the hock,
or suspicious of everything, even our shadow
;
and be able to approach the grass,
night,
rivers,
without shame,
meekly
with clear eyes ,
quiet hands, and use words
substantial,
authentic, not like those words
bristling with malice drooling hyenas
the urge us to hate,
or those who are suffocating in stanzas
syrup and whipped
rotten egg;
but simply put,
Brook,
roots, instead of

separate us a bit closer;
or better still, be silent

to take the pulse of everything that exists
and live the miracle of what we surrounding
while someone tell us, in a voice
oak
what centuries
wait in vain.

That noise you teeth drilled. That

noise
teeth pierce you like a horse dentist, and memory
fill you with rust, odor
decomposed and broken words.
May you grow in each of the pores, spider leg
;
can only feed on decks used
and reduce you sleep like a steamroller,
the thickness of your portrait.
What to take to the streets, lanterns
to run you kicked;
irresistible fanaticism that forces you to
prostrating before
garbage cans and that all city residents
confuse you with a stick.
That when you want to say: "My Love"
say, "fried fish"
your hands trying to strangle all the time,
and instead of throwing a cigarette, you're the
throw you in the cuspidors.
Let your wife cheat up to the mailboxes;
that lie next to you,
metamorphosed into leech,
and a crow after giving birth,
alum wrench.
May your family have fun in deformarte skeleton,
to mirrors, to look at you in disgust
commit suicide;
your only entertainment is to settle
in the waiting room of the dentists,
disguised crocodile
and fall in love, so madly,
of an iron box, you can not
leave, even for a moment,
to lick the lock.

Dichotomy bloodless


my hand always comes later than another hand mixing
mine and form a hand.


When I sit down I notice that my body feels
in another body
just sit where I sit.
And

at the very moment of entering a house,

discover that he was before he arrived.

That is, they may not attend my funeral,
and while I watered platitudes,
and I am in the grave, dressed
skeleton, yawning
topics and feigned weeping.

plenary Communion
nerves
I stick in the mud, the walls,
embraced the branches,
penetrate the earth,
spread through the air,
up to the sky.
Marble, horses are my own
veins.

Any pain hurts my flesh, my bones.
The times I've died
to see kill a bull ...


If I saw a tag to departure.
If a woman lies
I lie with her.
many times have I said: Am I the
stone?


never follow a corpse without falling to his side.
When you lay an egg, I too
cackling.
Just someone I think
to be a memory.

Watery Cervical Mucus Just Before Period

Antonio Orihuela

write

not shoot me in the mouth. And to write

has become
sometimes a shot in the mouth.

[...] Every time I see more people

put a bandage on the eyes.

I've even seen people who, having been moved slightly
,

repositioned it correctly.

The story ends

When finished with the same,
arrived slaves and had to end the slave
after the slaves revolted and were that ending slavery,
heretics and light the candles to end the heresy

and ended the obrersos a clean shot with socialism on both sides of the wall,
ended anarchists and freedom,
blacks and whites had to make them ...

now will end terrorism,
you can be sure.


I wonder what name we will then

CRIMES, VIRTUES: DAMAGE

In class, a kid

ask me what was buried beneath the pyramids. Excess

egalitarianism, I say. There were buried
social justice,
the possibility of a just and dignified life for all.

ask, then,
if they know what is buried beneath today

interplanetary rockets and military budgets.

the green fields of Eden

"conquest as you wish ... ...
eat your entrails,
the elderly are for breakfast, for the mature
lunch
youth for dinner ... ..
great light for him to fire under the kettles. "
Book of the Dead.

Lost in department stores, surrounded by cars
overflowing,
seeking, among many, the way out of there,

trip to the cashier,
balloons, the hall, the columns
honk if you steal something,
point for the first time,
music trance

of the carols, which place, I suppose, to confuse us
and suddenly, VEO

also

how the interior of the cars no longer overflow
fats, oils,
carcinogens,
plastics, meat wrapped in pvs,
chicken smothered in polystyrene
soups, sports drinks
,
industrial cakes,

food waste, but




that what will put people on tape
are pieces of themselves,

what the cashier hands
rub against the bar code reader is the face worn
people,

diopters, spherical, cervical pain,
sclerosis, rheumatism, arthritis,
pools of blood,
amputees,
his childhood and his gray hair, his illusions

and hopelessness cause clicks
acceptance
red beams in the machinery.

That, in fact,
of these sites one can not take anything
we go there to let us

only thing of value we have,

that we left a lot
waving


empty bag.

Ambico Vhs-c Adapter Problem

Gioconda Belli

I do not regret anything

From the woman I am,
sometimes I get to watch
those that could have been;
the gorgeous women,
hardworking, good wives,
paragon
wishing my mother.

do not know why I have spent a lifetime
rebelling against them.
Hate your threats on my body.
's fault that their lives impeccable
strange curse,
inspire me.
disowns his good offices;
of tears hidden from the husband,
of shame of their nakedness
under the pressed and starched underwear.
These women, however,
looking at me from inside the mirror, lift your finger

and sometimes, I give her reproachful looks
and I win universal acceptance,
be the "good girl" the "honest woman" La Gioconda
impeccable.
me out ten
conduct the party, the state, friendship,
my family, my children and all other beings abundant
that populate this world of ours.

In this inevitable contradiction between what should have been and what it is,
I have fought many battles deadly battles
bites
them against me-they dwell in me wanting to be myself-
maternal transgressing commandments
sore and tear women stumbled internal

that since childhood, I twist the
eyes because they do not fit the perfect mold of your dreams,
because I dare to be this crazy, fallible, tender and vulnerable,
who falls like a lost soul just causes
, handsome men,
and playful words.
Because, as an adult, I dared to live the childhood closed, and I love
on desktops
-in-office hours and broke ties inviolable

and dared to enjoy a healthy body and

winding with the genes of all my ancestors
endowed me.
do not blame anyone. Rather, I appreciate the gifts.
I do not regret anything, and said Edith Piaf.
But in the dark well I'm falling,
when, in the morning, no more open my eyes, feel the tears
bidding;
see these other women waiting in the lobby, brandishing
convictions against my happiness. Undaunted

good girls surrounding me his children's songs and dance with me against this woman

fledged, full
.
This woman breast breasts and hips

wide, for my mother and against it, I like being
.

Strike

I want a strike where we go all.
A strike of arms, legs, hair, born
a strike in each body.


I want a strike of workers of pigeons
of flowers drivers technician

children of women physicians.

I want a big strike, that even love
scope.
A strike where everything stops, the clock factories

school campus Hospitals

bus road ports.

A strike of eyes, hands and kisses.
A strike where breathing is not allowed, which strikes
born
silence to hear the footsteps of the tyrant who leaves.

Recorriéndote

I want to bite your flesh, salt
strong start with your arms

beautiful as branches of kapok,
follow that breast they dream my dreams
that breast-cave where he hides my head poking
tenderness,
that breast-sounding drums and continued life.
stay there for a long time messing my hands

in that clump of bushes that you
grows soft under my bare skin black
to follow after your navel
toward the center where you start tingling,
go kissing, biting,

there until this little place
-tight and secret-
who rejoices in my presence that anticipates

and comes to greet me in all its harshness
male inflamed. Download

then your legs strong as your beliefs guerrilla
those legs where your height is based
with which to come to me
which I hold, which
entangled in the night between
mine soft and feminine.
kiss your feet, love,
that both have to go without me even
and re escalarte
to tighten your lips with mine,
to fill all of your saliva and your breath until you enter

me with the force
tidal and invade me with your comings and goings of the raging sea

and we'll be the two lines and sweaty in the sand
sheets.

Inputting To Laptop Vga Out Port

Allen Ginsberg

II What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
¡Moloch! ¡Soledad! ¡Inmundicia! ¡Ceniceros y dólares inalcanzables! ¡Niños gritando bajo las escaleras! ¡Muchachos sollozando en ejércitos! ¡Ancianos llorando en los parques!
¡Moloch! ¡Moloch! ¡Pesadilla de Moloch! ¡Moloch el sin amor! ¡Moloch mental! ¡Moloch el pesado juez de los hombres!
¡Moloch la prisión incomprensible! ¡Moloch la desalmada cárcel de tibias cruzadas y congreso de tristezas! ¡Moloch cuyos edificios son juicio! ¡Moloch la vasta piedra de la guerra! ¡Moloch los pasmados gobiernos!
¡Moloch cuya mente es maquinaria pura! ¡Moloch cuya sangre es un torrente de dinero! ¡Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Chupa yards in Moloch! Without love no man in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!
Moloch! Moloch! Departments robots! Invisible suburbs! Skeleton treasuries!
blind capitals! Demonic industries! Spectral nations! Asylums Invincible! Granite Cock! Monstrous bombs!
broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Flooring, trees, radios, tons! Lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us! Visions
! Omens! Hallucinations! Miracles! Ecstasy! Drawn by the American river!
Dreams! Adoration! Illuminations! Religions! The whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Progress! On the river! Flips and crucifixions! Down the flood! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! Down on the rocks of Time!
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! The wild eyes! The holy yells! They bade farewell! Jumped off the roof! To the desert! Saying goodbye! Carrying flowers! To the river! On the street!

IV



Oh mother why I left

mother
Oh what have I forgotten




Oh mother a goodbye

black shoe
long goodbye


with Communist Party and career goodbye means



six black hairs on your chest wart



goodbye to your old dress and a long black beard around the vagina



goodbye to your stomach sunk your

Hitler

fear your mouth

bad stories with your fingers broken mandolins

porches with your arms Paterson Fat

your belly fireplaces strikes and your chin

Trotsky and the English Civil War

your singing voice for workers ruined

broken your nose with your nose sex bad smell of pickles de Newark

con tus ojos

con tus ojos de Rusia

con tus ojos de no tener ni cinco

con tus ojos de porcelana falsa

con tus ojos de tía Elanor

con tus ojos de India hambrienta

con tus ojos meando en el parque

con tus ojos de América en el momento de la caída

con tus ojos de fracaso en el piano

con tus ojos de familiares en California

con tus ojos de Ma Rainey muriendo en la ambulancia

con tus ojos de Checoslovaquia atacada por robots

con tus ojos yendo a clases nocturnas de pintura en el Bronx

con tus ojos de la abuela murder you see on the horizon from the fire escapes your eyes

running naked out of the apartment screaming in the hallway with your eyes

dragged by police to the ambulance

with your eyes tied to the operating table with

resected pancreatic your eyes with your eyes

appendicitis operation

abortion with your eyes with your eyes

ovarian
extripados
shock to your eyes with your eyes

lobotomy

divorce with your eyes

heart with your eyes with your eyes



alone with your eyes with your eyes


Death
your full of flowers

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Karmelo C. Lucía Sánchez Iribarren

"Do not go, do not leave me like that,"
I had said then.
But I said nothing, however.
I stood, there in
The rain, like a complete idiot,
Seeing how you were going for ever.
That's all I did. Then
is true, for many
Months drank a lot, too. Until one morning
infernal hangover vomit
on the carpet. And that was
the end the whole story. You see,
Nothing: Dry Cleaning and a half sack.

For God did not appear anywhere
friendship and love communicating,
And as for hope,
For that,
to wait,
As always. What a fucking hotel


, he thought,
and marked the death.

the back of the bar
A woman, a woman in principle

Like so: who smokes, drinks
, laugh, talk, and check back
Melena;
already I say, like so many.

Until your eyes met
perhaps yours
With
-or what seems to thee, "And for a brief

Instant
Time stops,
And that woman is unique,
And everything changes,
And anything can happen.

Everything.


also-as is almost always
, "Not to Exceed

Absolutely nothing.

do not know if I'm happy, truly

if I have ever been
;
though I think not. And you

happens the same, I know
.

But this is not the worst.
worst case, it
sadder is that I

not even matter to us

Do You Wee On Chillblains

Saornil

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David Eloy Rodríguez Ángel González

Position Of Cervix 5 Days Before Period

Elegido por aclamación

Sí, fue un malentendido.
Gritaron: ¡a las urnas!
y él entendió: ¡a las armas! –dijo luego.
Era pundonoroso y mató mucho.
Con pistolas, con rifles, con decretos.

Cuando envainó la espada dijo, dice:
La democracia es lo perfecto.
El público aplaudió. Sólo callaron,
impasibles, the dead.

popular desire will be fulfilled.
From this hour I am, "silently
the Boss, if you want. The opposition
to lift a finger. Still

most
bodies gave him total control of the cemetery.

Does Uterus Affect Liver

Bethlehem

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Reyes Roger Wolfe

DEMOCRACY

Another bloody Sunday afternoon, one of those evenings that someday

will choose to hang the last straw

of my anguish.

families in the street con niños,
padres y madres
sonrosadamente satisfechos
de su recién cumplido
deber electoral;
gente encorvada sobre radios
que escupen datos, porcentajes
en los bancos.
Corderos de camino al matadero
dándole a escoger el arma
al matarife.

TANTO MONTA

Te dirán
que vales
lo que eres
y no lo que tienes.
Y tendrán
razón:
sin dinero
es cuando vales
exactamente
lo you are:
anything.

2. right

You have the right to express freely


everything you say is permitted.

[...]

8. Commitment

- Are political, Lou?
- Political? With respect to what? Give me a topic.
  te daré un pañuelo, y me limpias el culo con él...

                                            Lou Reed, "Take no Prisoners"

Hay escritores
que se empeñan
en que los libros
siempre están
en otra parte.

Somalia
Nicaragua
Mongolia
Pernambuco
Sarajevo
qué más da.

Y si te paras
a pensarlo
tiene gracia
porque al final
aciertan
sin saberlo:
cualquier
fucking part
less where they are
.

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Charles Bukowski

ALL.

"The dead do not need aspirin or


sad I guess.


but perhaps need rain.

shoes but no place to walk
.

cigarettes do not, tell us
,
but a place where burn
.

Or tell us
space and a place for
fly

da same.


the dead do not need me.


nor alive.

but perhaps some deaths will
a
otros.

En realidad, quizás necesitan
todo lo que nosotros
necesitamos

y
necesitamos tanto
Si solo supiéramos
que
es.

probablemente
es
todo

y probablemente
todos nosotros moriremos
tratando de
conseguirlo

o moriremos

porque no
lo
conseguimos.

Espero que
cuando yo este muerto
comprendaís

que conseguí
tanto
como
pude. "

CONOCÍ A UN GENIO

" Hoy
conocí a un genio on the train
as six years old;
sat beside me and

as the train ran along the coast, we
ocean.
the child looked at me and said:
the sea is not pretty.


was the first time I realized it
. "

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Miguel Ángel García Argüez

Your voice is full of cats

Your voice is full of cats
A voice without shame
A disheveled and millimeter
voice full of fat cats eyes and a voice

walled rain of dead fireflies
of clay and dreams

Hush now and listen

kicks in my chest
A frightened mouse

After-Shave

No we realized
but still has come, with no noise,
the day finally
us all forget the names of things,
the taste of bread, relax
ads, button
off all the fears,
postal code, the smell of after-shave, the car registration
,
command in the distance, the policy
, keys,
weather forecasts, prices
, tampons, language,
the agenda, savings, our name,
how was this strange
submissive gesture that all we said yes.

penetration.

I entered your pussy
all the miseries of this world,
hurricanes, forest
music, shopping carts,
pages of the Bible,
lumps of sugar, drunken moons.
tripis, demons,
cataracts, verses of Shakespeare,
watches, garbage trucks,
guitars, adjectives, dogs, chips
God, money,
deserts, black horses
seas, trains, leopards
furious TVs , pens, calendars
,
hosts of archangels, knives
in a wild torrent and direct
incessant, angry at you, into the warm Honduras

of your legs,
a flood of scoundrels,
an immense tide of crazy cats
lost in the night.

How Long For Bursitis To Go Away

Leopoldo Maria Panera

DIARIO DE UN SEDUCTOR

No es tu sexo lo que en tu sexo busco
sino ensuciar tu alma:
                                      deflower
with all the mud of life
which has not yet lived.

necrophilia

(prose)

The act of love is the closest thing to
murder.
In bed, in joyful terror, it is clear
the soul of it is, man or woman
,
below. So do not look
. Squatting is dirty

and penetrate the body is humiliating to the

cock erection another self.
Delete or be deleted, Tando given, but
in an instant, let go


again between his lips.

DEDICATION


Beyond where life is still hiding, is
a kingdom, is growing
as a king his agony,
to flourish as a kingdom
the dirty flower agony I
everything prostitute, I can still
prostitute and make my death my corpse
last poem.

Jeff Hardy Has A Baby

Mario Benedetti

Torturer and mirror and

Mirate

what monstrous crab gripped your childhood parental beating
what you coward generated submissions
how sad you did not escape ruthless


your eyes and look at you


HERE are the Valkyries
you missed the first pot of your rages

you get into cruelties of eleven staff and now the hatred
follows you like a vulture

not escape your eyes look at you



and although no body kills you're


but nobody
you rot rotten god

you protect him or better

god will burst.

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Boccanera

a man is falling for me
blood with a broken glass between his teeth
not me

loneliness are all
the pit of hatred in the memory are

a man comes to me collapsing
the dark silence saliva
old splashing my eyes with tears that he spoons
invented when treading
my blood puddles

a man is falling for me
wound not make music or fire does not blow or breathe

want to tell us something

knees are a southern
where we were all wondering how it was
that we grow
indifference to a door by pulling out the blinded

punching the air, foaming at the mouth

a man falling for me is blood drunk
with steps made no noise
spit
not delay want to tell us something.

BESOS


life is not the face or the tears of the face or
hand or hand hit the face
nor the journey with no escape from the sterile side


is the trickle of blood coming out of your mouth.

II


not my eyes smeared with the landscape of your own, or messy
the day you showed up, nor have I gathered
your sounds with my mouth to keep doliesen
questions, or

even call me as you say, but you can stay
,
is a little soup, some wine,
outside is raining in another language.

Suicide Letter From what little I've experienced has made me lose

too long

SHIPPING

Everything that comes out of time given.
There is no other way.
Between the eye and the hand there is an abyss. Between
want and I can no one drowned.
A country that rears its misshapen head in a
letter
and will be out of time, nothing is what it
expected.
And what comes wrapped in gift paper will go
hate dirty.

danced in the rubble of an appointment.
Draw a cup of coffee in the desert. We live
add and subtract:
giving you love, which takes away the fear.
the end we give the bones of a perfume. Even

and persist.
In a mountain live a slippery fish. Among
broken numbers slips a star.

short essays on poetic honesty.

is not that the poets lie is that liars

want to write poetry

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Jorge León Felipe

There are no fools, friends, no more crazy. He died that manchego, this quirky desert ghost ... and in Spain there are crazy. Everybody is sane, terrible, monstrous sane.
Hear ... this
historians ... philosophers ... Shrinks ...
Franco ... Iscariot toad and a thief in the judge's chair handing out punishments and rewards,
on behalf of Christ, with the effigy of Christ turned on the chest,
and the man standing here, strong, erect, serene,
with normal pulse, tongue in silence
eyes in their sockets and place the bones ... Toad Iscariot
thief and distributing punishments and rewards ...
and I, still, here, silent, stolid, sane ...
sane!, Without me breaking the mechanism of the brain.
When you lose your mind? (I wonder keepers).
When the man mad? When, when is when the concepts set forth absurd and blasphemous

and gestures are meaningless, monstrous and obscene?
When is when one says for example:
not true.
God has not put man here on Earth, under the light and law of the universe;
man is an insect that lives in
foul and red parts of the monkey and the camel?
When if not now (I wonder keepers),
when they stop is when the eyes stay open, immensely open,
without being able to close them and the flame or the wind?
When is when changing the functions of soul and body springs
and instead of crying more than laughing and spit in our gesture?
If not now, now that justice is worth less, infinitely less
the urine of dogs;
if not now, now that justice has less, infinitely less manure
category;
if not now ... When you lose your mind? Answer me
keepers,
when it breaks and jump broken into pieces the mechanism of the brain?
There are no crazy, friends, no more crazy. He died that manchego,
that
desert ghost bizarre and ... Neither in Spain is crazy! Everybody is sane,
terrible, monstrous sane! ...
How well start the clock! How well the brain up!
This watch ..., this brain, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, is a perfect watch ...
perfect, perfect !