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Sofia, trained to lose. My flower Isolated

Sophia was walking around on their tracks, depressions warm white down, marks where his gaze fell asleep.

That night I could not find his character. And not enough laps and markings, there was no track to reach the exit of the labyrinth. In which she, of course, had gone alone. Because she decided . No matter what Andonaegui thought, she was able to decide. But would not. That's what happened. She had decided she did not want decidir.Era easier to follow in the taciturnity of bare feet and red toenails. Sofia, the writer, the decider, was in the heat absorption of his skin against hers. That contact had ever enjoyed and learned to lose. Because he had been taught to blows and finally learned to lose. Then he spent to lose.

She was a very intelligent woman, who wove and unraveled, I learned and practiced, and almost always lost. A Sofia lacked just learning to retrieve. If only hot within a depression lying on the white carpet.

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was like a woman

-unreachable-

my flower Isolated.

I wanted to give the joy

of

freesias and ferns

And in the middle of the commotion

left her sleek and straight.

Morning

and slept

party I went to visit

and found her lifeless.

I looked and saw that at its height

carrying a treasure

bubble

own could not, it Isolated

share.

then very carefully took

scissors and started height

the rest.

The party returned to

night

perfumes and colors.

Isolated in the middle

silent

and watched day after day

parties

sleeping nights

and waking.

So time went

the commotion dies down

the bright colors no longer

water seeping

and there was one,

in my flower vase, Isolated.

Frozen Margarita In A Bucket

RIGHT SIDE

The pain was dry, heavy, like a falling-round hole-in a dream.
Waiting / NZA of calm, drowsiness, peaceful and soothing silence is welcome. Walk, investigates and crosses his eyes with six eyes. Conversa and evaluation. Remove load and reaches conclusions. And decide. But he prefers to wait, look more even, determine / be.
"There are clothes to prove yet," and turns his eye to the voices, a woman and two children.
"We have breakfast. Invoices and cafe con leche" It's half past four, mom and daughter can not sleep.
Waiting / NZA follows closely to the voices. And still is / was.
Walk the patio, fresh with new white flowers. The young shadow of a dreamlike vine is both talking and remembering old times. Old times and new white flowers.
"No more poetry?", A question is framed in a graying mustache parentheses.
"No more time," said forward / NZA.

And sleep. The hole is heavy.
pain, dry.

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The cultivator


All

began in 2001. Remember you that Mr. Slim, who devoured watermelons?

Yes I remember.

Well, this man was the one who got me started on this "need." Just thinking about it now makes me shudder.

And what was this "need"? eating watermelon?

ha! do not laugh at me, do me a favor Andonaegui.

not laugh at you, just ask to clarify the situation that gives you chills now just thinking about it.

This guy, the watermelon-eating, the deer and the snow was a bad guy.

died?

No.

You still see devour watermelons?

Yes

view It hurts, it hurts to think .... can make you somehow?

No.

For?

Because I think I ate me too.

Come on, do not be ridiculous! Enterito I look good without any bite or scar.

are not. Are inside. Not that is within the scar or bite, no sir! If only it were that! Are your teeth, eternal teeth, yellowish, smelly, dirty, those inside and I keep biting. Every so often the crunch crunch .... sorry! is a horrible sound, like a strong ringing in the ears, as a vibration that shakes my brain ... and I come from the eyes, the seeds of watermelons out of my eyes and covered flood and leave me, all black, choke me! And I just want to disappear, I want bury once and for all, I sink, so it's all over, those teeth ....

He tried to go to a specialist such as a cultivator of yellow teeth?

You know one that I can recommend?

Yes .. there is a gentleman who usually come by here every day. I know he could remove a few teeth smell of some people.

And well they now?

Yes

Who is this man?

not know his name. But come here every day to evening. Will find it. And if you do not see, do not worry. Do not get wrong. Just wait here, and if you are too full of seeds, shake a little. Thus, the cultivator can see .

Andonaegui not. Not if I can shake the seeds. Sometimes I get so clogged, so heavy!

Make an effort. A stroke, even let them see your hand. That will suffice. The cultivator's holding and will do the rest. Trust me, it's just a matter of a stroke, a small jolt. And he will encounter.

....

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Already (again)

A couple of words-a word.

A point well put.

A blank line

and you're done!

Already

.

You're back.

Two or three hours,

four? or were five?

you expect

longed led me along the way!

should be
never lost you and if you ever found
not what page was

It must have been the words
or blanks
points, commas
what is not ever told so my chest

sensed what brought you back today and filling
cold tonight
your hidden image.









Photo: Wind

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What a waste,

your head in the wreckage

without a face I saw a picture,

a still life!

What a waste,

father without children

column cut of a book without letters

neck without blood, pain rotten

decomposition without color!

What a dream without a day!

Night arrested

water that cleanses the breast board

not collect more than dead!

Oh vacuum

to oppress

oh, father you do not exist

oh, broken column

goods

Division Multiplication

evils!

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Day Where are you? Persistent Painless

Where have you drawn this time? On what breast
reflex

now your soul,

your infinite love, your flesh torn

?

Do

've already found a warm hollow where shelter

unwoven

beat your strange plot?

How

qué lugar se juntan

dos

y se transforman en uno?

¿Cuál es la palabra que acurruca

a una soledad y su sombra?

¿Será que pasó el tiempo

y de tu mano ya no me llegarán

el calor ni la mirada ilusionada?

Rey de las imágenes

atormentadas

¿en qué cielo brillan hoy

tus pócimas encantadas?

Cleaning The Uterus Lining

Pude buscarte en los símbolos subterráneos

shelled green lines

forgotten moments memories

few shortcuts.

I could see you in the parenthesis of music and song

later stunned

words piled up and a frozen picture.

I could feel the intermittent

reflection of your hands in my life

in the days of poetry and bitters.

I could taste you, magical moment of the faculty must

of light in the mirror image

portrayed in the soul torn.

I could have avoided pain that was screwed into the bowels

and was there waiting to be crowned

and waited there, crying

dry weather in the twilight

unlearned no letters, no symbols, without hands or shoulders

and almost painless.

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The awareness of my survival is so fastidious that every night I wake up to see if I breath ...

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To Andonaegui

Strangely, Ando. Quite have not seen him around here. And that's weird, because you are always here. I'll be in the right place? But if this is your tree. What's Not, Andonaegui? Ever see him again? Will and what happened had to happen? That's what you expected? Will it happen to me what I had to go and I not expected? It is very rare not to see it, I feel a void, I feel as if I had changed the world. I feel leaden feet, everything is slow, everything is foreign.

I leave my letter, which came to tell. I hope to read it. I hope see him again.

The single window opened, it was not Aunt Marucha that was on the floor below. I watched the curtain rolled up by itself. As soon as he stopped at a certain level, to my amazement and feeling of having supernatural powers, went into a divine breeze and the book on the dresser to my right, he barked.

I sprinted to the room my mother, who still slept in his bed. I went downstairs and found Raul on the sidewalk. I told her about the barking. He knew that he had written the book.

No, that was not barking the product of my superpowers. A special bullet, a special ink which activated the sound of barking in contact with air.

Raúl reassured me.

Illustration: Abel Jorge Tagliaferro, arq °