Restless little fingers are the sea. Crashing fingertips. Little skin bells. Hard slaps of salt. The wind is clapping in the leaves and in the branches: the caress of his…

Read More Clothing for a pair of hands

The teeth of the clock

With every gesture I draw the threads of a screw and the screw rotates, and I live in its hypnotic metal and I walk along its thread as if I…

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The teeth of the clock

We will never be, defeated by time. There is melancholy in our seconds. Yes. Yesterday we got our mirrors dirty and we washed them down with the same filth, and…

Read More Red swiftness

The teeth of the clock

Under the skirts of the earth Below Time In the closeness of nerves the rhythm can be sensed and the rhyme is sought through convection in the saliva through conduction…

Read More The Artists

The teeth of the clock

Life is solid. It was not made to be served with milk. It is not instantaneous as death is. Death is always drinkable. Life is a bore impossible to swallow…

Read More A classic English breakfast

Poemas en inglés (English translation by Ben Clark)

The scream is an orphan inside the throat. Voodoo awakens its worst stuffed dolls. Every single cry has become a genie. Infinity has come to a halt because of the…

Read More 12th January 2010

Poemas en inglés (English translation by Ben Clark)

Night had fallen. That hidden painter had it easy. I gave him a brush dipped in nostalgia. I gave him the brittle whistles that shiver in my stroke. I competed…

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Where it is almost dawn

Where it is almost dawn

Dry

I squeeze the stone of your goodbye so tightly, that I still hope to extract the juice of hope −how foolish of me, from a stone.

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Where it is almost dawn

Last night you said: «I sense you are happy» Did I really draw that much attention?

Read More Blushing

Where it is almost dawn