La vía láctea se cierne sobre un tapete rojo sin puntas.
Y tener las manos sin brazos alzadas hacia lo imberbe de una banda de terciopelo despojo.
La inmensidad del espacio no es suficiente para lo que se tuerce de un par de paralelas consejeras de la paz.
Los tormentos de un alma sola y sin bola, la matiné de un periscopio azul y los despojos de perfil sin faz.
Todo el día podría ser de un purpura escamado, como la espalda baja del astro sin rastro.
Pero las estrellas celosas de un ámbito negro no pueden no ser sin el vacío lactoso de una altura boreal.
Las notas se dilucidan sin tu presencia ¿No puedo, acaso, renegar de tu ausencia? ¿como hacer que la mirada se desvíe del camino circular de la palma negra?
Un alba rosa y un cono prosa, ridículo intento de entrañar lo irrazonable.
miércoles, 24 de febrero de 2010
domingo, 27 de diciembre de 2009
The song of the cheerful Jesus.
"I'm the queerest young fellow that ever was heard.
My mother's a Jew; my father's a Bird
With Joseph the Joiner I cannot agree
So 'Here's to Disciples and Calvary.'
If anyone thinks that I amn't divine,
He gets no free drinks when I'm making the wine
But have to drink water and wish it were plain
That I make when the wine becomes water again.
My methods are new and are causing surprise:
To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes
To signify merely there must be a cod
If the Commons will enter the Kingdom of God
Now you know I don't swim and you know I don't skate
I came down to the ferry one day and was late.
So I walked on the water and all cried, in faith!
For a Jewman it's better than having to bathe.
Whenever I enter in triumph and pass
You will find that my triumph is due to an ass
(And public support is a grand sinecure
When you once get the public to pity the poor.)
Then give up your cabin and ask them for bread
And they'll give you a stone habitation instead
With fine grounds to walk in and raincoat to wear
And the Sheep will be naked before you'll go bare.
The more men are wretched the more you will rule
But thunder out 'Sinner' to each bloody fool;
For the Kingdom of God (that's within you) begins
When you once make a fellow acknowledge he sins.
Rebellion anticipates timely by 'Hope,'
And stories of Judas and Peter the Pope
And you'll find that you'll never be left in the lurch
By children of Sorrows and Mother the Church
Goodbye, now, goodbye, you are sure to be fed
You will come on My Grave when I rise from the Dead
What's bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly
And Olivet's breezy—Goodbye now Goodbye." Oliver Gogarty.
My mother's a Jew; my father's a Bird
With Joseph the Joiner I cannot agree
So 'Here's to Disciples and Calvary.'
If anyone thinks that I amn't divine,
He gets no free drinks when I'm making the wine
But have to drink water and wish it were plain
That I make when the wine becomes water again.
My methods are new and are causing surprise:
To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes
To signify merely there must be a cod
If the Commons will enter the Kingdom of God
Now you know I don't swim and you know I don't skate
I came down to the ferry one day and was late.
So I walked on the water and all cried, in faith!
For a Jewman it's better than having to bathe.
Whenever I enter in triumph and pass
You will find that my triumph is due to an ass
(And public support is a grand sinecure
When you once get the public to pity the poor.)
Then give up your cabin and ask them for bread
And they'll give you a stone habitation instead
With fine grounds to walk in and raincoat to wear
And the Sheep will be naked before you'll go bare.
The more men are wretched the more you will rule
But thunder out 'Sinner' to each bloody fool;
For the Kingdom of God (that's within you) begins
When you once make a fellow acknowledge he sins.
Rebellion anticipates timely by 'Hope,'
And stories of Judas and Peter the Pope
And you'll find that you'll never be left in the lurch
By children of Sorrows and Mother the Church
Goodbye, now, goodbye, you are sure to be fed
You will come on My Grave when I rise from the Dead
What's bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly
And Olivet's breezy—Goodbye now Goodbye." Oliver Gogarty.
martes, 3 de noviembre de 2009
domingo, 1 de noviembre de 2009
Backup IV
El solrocinante se ha ido decrementando en intensidad. La parte alta de los escalones no intenta perimetrear la estacionaria desolación del mes aparte. Tal vez, y dependiendo de que tan lejos se puede estar de aquellas figuras intencionadas, la parte muerta del alma pueda dar cuenta de la desolación arqueróntica de la mirada pesada.
No, no hay dobles intenciones en los follajes divididos, y no, tampoco hay intensidad en el ámbito de la ventana. Vanos son los intentos de reforzar el viento, ya que, sin aliento se ha quedado el tiempo y sin trampa la anciana trepa por la alhambra.
Susurros inseparables de la tipica formación material, sus colores brillan con el vestido bermellón, aunque el empellón disimula la peréversión de sus actos. No hay tal fantasía reformadora de bienes acumulados. Toda la grisura de las palmas intensifica la pormerizada incomprensión de las abejas, ¿Acaso Vienes?.
Totalizando las rejas, impermeabilizando la tejas del rocío, aterrorizando a los cúmulos rojizos de las hojas otoñalesy escarabajizando las patas del equin(ocio).
No temas, no hables, no pares, no faltes, si la posición de la mente es blanca, es que no hay que fijar ninguna idea falsa. Domina tu Deseo, por lo cual, no hay injerencia hecha a Teseo que implique la infinitización de los goces nebulares.
No, no hay dobles intenciones en los follajes divididos, y no, tampoco hay intensidad en el ámbito de la ventana. Vanos son los intentos de reforzar el viento, ya que, sin aliento se ha quedado el tiempo y sin trampa la anciana trepa por la alhambra.
Susurros inseparables de la tipica formación material, sus colores brillan con el vestido bermellón, aunque el empellón disimula la peréversión de sus actos. No hay tal fantasía reformadora de bienes acumulados. Toda la grisura de las palmas intensifica la pormerizada incomprensión de las abejas, ¿Acaso Vienes?.
Totalizando las rejas, impermeabilizando la tejas del rocío, aterrorizando a los cúmulos rojizos de las hojas otoñalesy escarabajizando las patas del equin(ocio).
No temas, no hables, no pares, no faltes, si la posición de la mente es blanca, es que no hay que fijar ninguna idea falsa. Domina tu Deseo, por lo cual, no hay injerencia hecha a Teseo que implique la infinitización de los goces nebulares.
sábado, 24 de octubre de 2009
Backup III
Even when her sight it is Angry, It´s still beatiful.
But the living lines are in the denial, baking the noise.
Misfortune and tired, the clocks are dying.
Flickering tires, the loop are very sided.
The body is on the road.
White sheet above.
No one is listening his bloody soar.
Wood on my arms, The scapegoat are flying.
Spining the lies, everyones talk like they know it all.
Sourrounded times, Shapes of black.
But the living lines are in the denial, baking the noise.
Misfortune and tired, the clocks are dying.
Flickering tires, the loop are very sided.
The body is on the road.
White sheet above.
No one is listening his bloody soar.
Wood on my arms, The scapegoat are flying.
Spining the lies, everyones talk like they know it all.
Sourrounded times, Shapes of black.
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