Sábados

Este pequeño café Etíope
Es lo que más me acerca al Nilo
Torrente furioso inalcanzable

aguas (escrito por mi padre)

Cataratas es un lugar cautivante 

En el cual aparece la magia Guaraní 

En forma de lluvia ascendente.

Besos húmedos de fragancia rubí 

Ceibo en flor y canto de aves.


AEI

Dos Narices

Cuatro patas cada cual
Largas orejas y ojos ansiosos
Sus narices húmedas

Americanizado

Conversaba con mi hijo
Sobre filosofías lejanas
Y recordando una foto de Miranda
Le comenté que de volver
De si ese eterno gardeliano
Volver ocurriera
Definitiviamente me verían
Como la vieron a ella
Con su sombrero de Frutas
Distinto, cambiado, influido,
Pero a la vez igual.
Así me siento yo,
Así me sentía de más jóven
En algo han influído estos años
En estas tierras turbulentas
Que me han dado paz y familia
Pero aún me escatiman
Me esconden, me confunden
Mi propósito.
Mi vision.

back pain

It has been there

silent, persistent, all winter

Am I growing old?

happiness is a kite

His eyes too large for his face

His hands too small to catch it all

His smile welcomes each soaring kite

Slow day

Dreading to be working

On a beautiful Spring Saturday
Slow, and yes, cloudy skies

awkward

unsung songs i fail to sing
yet in many moments of stress and of grim
i start them with all my heart

On Earth

Everyone is afraid
Me, my last five minutes

It is natural

Purgar

Ser Argento implica

Vivir con la idea de esas islas

Marcadas con fuego

En tu hipotálamo

Al nacer

En el centro de tu ser

Y estar obligado a rememorarlas

A bendecirlas

A añorarlas

Año tras año

Hasta el fin de tus días 

Sin presentar un disenso

Un pero un punto suspensivo una coma. 

Pero para mi fueron

Ese Averno helado

Que se llevó la vida de tantos

Una generación anterior a la mía 

Que se hunda en el océano

Que se pierda en los hielos

Sus rocas no valen una sola vida

De mis compañeros. 

Chau, y si te he visto,

Sabes, no me acuerdo. 

Fool all the time

On a spring prank
Woke up to wet water
My boy is growing

I.T.

The idea, the expectation, the process, the void, the feelings, the before and the after
How to approach my own mortality
When yesterday I thought there was more life than time?
Maybe start calling it by its name?

Better not to talk about certain things

Fools of us
Who love to write
For a Month
Non stop
Til the lights
Of the 30th
Come to die
Fool of me
Swim I will
The waters I never
Dared to try
Those of  death
and of dying
Explore I will
What I feel
What I thought
I am getting
Any younger
Not
Time to talk
To me
About that

Merry Month
To All

Mountains

<BLANK May 2017 >



I open this blank poem
Years later after I started it
Many things happened since then
A list that does not fit in one page
In a poem
Plenty of water came down the Mountains
Plenty of times We went there
To walk them,
Breathe them
Enjoy them.
Maybe the best decision we made
Was to move here
Away from all.

Invisible Gaps

It is Ir'n, daddy, 

Corrects my boy as I speak

English with my Latin trained mind

He does not understand 

I need to pronounce all letters I see

In the word Iron

His little mind tries, patiently,  

to understand

Why I fail so misarably

At such an easy task

And he repeats effortlessly

It is Ir'n, daddy. 

 

yo

The word ' I ' is always capitalized

While 'we' is not. 

Can a languaje be more idiological?

Catching Up

I came short
After a month of verses
Spring too busy

Two hours

I would love have
Two hours to lay on the grass
Clear  mind and calm

Loyal Worker?

Loyality Day
On the International Workers Day
Demands Loyal Worker!?

Thank you for the fish

Time to add and sustract
How many days have we have lived
How many poems remain.