Posts in Category: Poetry

SKY OF WOLVES

You must have seen that there are barely questions.
I write with a hand taken from the heart
and it hurts to feel that some birds
have been cut down with the same hand.
We used to be wild dogs
down tunnels where no one dares walk alone.
Nothing more than the flight of those birds of prey
and a pack of wolves at the front door.
The answers reside far from the questions.
They talk about truth with no emotion.

POETRY IN LOVE

How much would I give to not write
this poem if you were with me.
I would give everything, an eye that no longer sees,
an arm that does not move, a chest
that no one kisses.

How much to not discover how it hurts me
and to be by your side.
How much to not get up
at this time in the morning
after dreaming of another man.

I would stop writing in the belief
that it will last forever.
I would start praying again to ask
that like before it wouldn’t hurt you.
I would beg you again
to stay with me
when I did nothing.

And that I wouldn’t leave you for a verse.
And that I wouldn’t leave you
for a poem I’m now writing
to ward off the curse
of being without you.

How much to not write
this book where pain resides
alone with its own void.
How much to sleep a little.
How much to once again hold your face
between my hands
as time is held
when one is happy
and does not know it.

THE NAME OF MY LIFE

What I like most in this world
is how life calls me
by my name. As if she, life, were searching for me
or didn’t know where to find me.

Look how life laughs at the world.
Look how the world doesn’t trust life.
Look how hard for them to get along,
cold life with difficult world.

But what I like most is how
in spite of everything she, life, pronounces my name.
As if asking me without asking.
As if searching me out as a poet and as a man.

That’s how it is, the name of my existence.
Tender for some, famished for others.
Everyone pronounces it differently.
But she’s the only one who responds.

I know what your eyes saw

I know what your eyes saw
when with an absent gaze
you fled to no man’s land.
I know how hard it is to feel nothingness
when you are the edge of the abyss
and calm is a whisper in the distance.
I know what it is to ask god for life
and believe in nothing.
I know what it is like to feel alone
when everything around is silent
and you only hear the sound
of silence adrift.
I know what it is to feel love and hate
in the uncertainty of desire
if what you write is forgotten in an instant.
Like having everything and having nothing.
Writing a poem and nothing.
Your name below and you are no one.

THE LAST CIGARETTE

When I see you stretched on the floor
with that expression that seems to tell me
I lie to you because I love you.

I tell myself I’ll buy you a black dress
when I see you naked and a new pair
of shoes and some expensive perfume.

But when you fall asleep I write
these lines that walk slowly
across your body in dirty boots.

When I feel your wounded breath
as if you were a last cigarette
before smoking was forbidden.

I know what your eyes saw
when with an absent gaze
you fled to no man’s land.
I know how hard it is to feel nothingness
when you are the edge of the abyss
and calm is a whisper in the distance.
I know what it is to ask god for life
and believe in nothing.
I know what it is like to feel alone
when everything around is silent
and you only hear the sound
of silence adrift.
I know what it is to feel love and hate
in the uncertainty of desire
if what you write is forgotten in an instant.
Like having everything and having nothing.
Writing a poem and nothing.
Your name below and you are no one.

WEIGHT

I will tell you that my hands have grasped nothing new.
But at least I found a blank book
where I can bring my words together at night.

My eyes saw not the sea, but I sailed.
My body never overcame, but I was overcome
where no one dares recognize it.

After asking forgiveness I loved like a madman.
After doing it such that errors are recognized
where the passing of time does not occur.

My body that saw how others were marked.
My eyes that felt a frozen sea
where there were no maps to know it.

I always dreamed of a distant trip
in which to find lost happiness.
But I found other eyes with other tears.

Other shameful secrets
that aren’t worth recognizing
when life brands everyone with its uncertain weight.

CLAY AND MUD

Eyes merge with the gaze
that denies sadness.

Sorrow that the fog conceals
upon the shadow’s jaws.

Heaven, with its downcast eyes,
cannot perceive what takes place on earth.

Time’s hard-learned lessons
bite into soil when they fall to the ground.

Indifferent to weariness, everything is so fragile
that your reality may become nothingness.

THE QUESTION

Life hears the weather’s confession
before choosing its clothes.

Hands gaze up at the sky
come together furtively.

Could this solitary presence be
the daring landscape of the soul?

Can it be true that calm exists
as a measure of weather?

What use is a foolish man
who knows nothing of life?

No one will take you seriously
if you don’t believe in what you’re doing.

No one will believe what you ‘re saying
if you show up in the nude.

LANDSCAPE WITH FOG

Confused desire in the body
subsists on the taste of bitterness.

A greeting in the middle of the street
that no one remembers.

Revealed love
is like the left hand.

They continue twisting their fingers.
But the wound does not close.

LOVERS

To the ground when loving
sweet tongue
my body collapses.

The distance
the first attack
is never forgotten.

A kiss
like a knife
when it licks.

Naked sweat
that seals
the wound.

Sweat
on skin
that is stricken.

In the grief
after the calm
when no one’s looking.

Pain that love
stirs
upon raw flesh.