Hace años me dejaste indicios en el cuerpo
encendiste señales en la noche
trazaste mapas en la hoja del silencio.

Yo me fui a las calles a buscarte
en todas las esquinas de palabras
en todas las ventanas de Febrero.

Descubrí tu nombre pronunciado en otras bocas
mis ganas de tocarte a medianoche
descubrí tu huella perdida en aguaceros.

Un día salí a pasear con rumbo al tiempo
y adentro de una lluvia encontré tus ojos limpios
y entonces sin que yo me diese cuenta

tu pequeña mano
desdibujó mi olvido.

I am not intrinsically ugly. Is just the hangover, You know?
Well, at least that’s what she told me.

Reading.

Alone.
The world turned off.
The blinds closed.
Reading this
in the midst of yourself.
With nobody around.
The window shivering.
Your voice lost,
unheard.
Unaided in your thoughts.
Moving your lips
while stumbling over words,
in the centre of forgotten time.
Alone.

Your name is Legion.

Mundaca 14:10-11

- Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?
- Because you multiplied fish and bread. Have you seen the bill?
________________________________________

The Goblin Restaurant.

Airy fairy
the bearded man
or should I say
the goblin hairy

waving his both hands
deep down in the basement
of Creswell street
a sight quite scary.

He tells the young Lizzie,
he talks without gumption
“I know what’s the meaning,
Life’s just an assumption

I beg you, just hear me
being goblin’s not easy
I’ll tell you my secrets
if you’re not too busy

You see all the goblins,
a really weird race,
some fruit they will sell you
or throw’t at your face,

For only one penny
or some golden curl
you eat all you want to
till you shortly hurl

My shop has no fruit
no mangos
no dates
no limes
no plums
bananas
or apples
to share with your chums

no grapes
no guavas
no pears
no figs
no peaches
or berries
to give to your pigs

Papayas, you guessed it,
are out of the question
and also avocados
those give you indigestion.

Boquilas and Peumos
Sapotes, Lanzones
those fruits are for weirdos
who have no cojones.

But I have some other
delicious provisions
come here, come and join me
without intermissions.

Have bread, have some olives
Rioja, nice wine
with just these starters
you’re feeling divine.

Here come the main courses
they feel like a bliss
you’re getting bit tipsy
come give us a kiss.

Chorizo and scallops,
black pudding, paella,
some meatballs and bravas,
fried prawns from Marbella.

To finish some truffle,
perhaps cheese selection,
am getting so horny
don’t mind my erection.

And after the coffees,
the wine one last sip,
before we head over
am leaving some tip.

Don’t think you’ll be leaving,
don’t put up a fight
you know that you want it
we’re well out of sight.”

And this happy goblin,
this goblin so hairy,
took Lizzie out of Creswell
down into the prairie,
and both really happy
and both oh so merry
lay down on the grassland
and he popped her cherry.

Feel the silence.
The fields are asleep, the city remains. Men lay on their beds holding women that breathe slowly. Women dream of lonely shores in the bed sheet. Listen to this: When you let the noise of the streets, the voices of people living their lives, the chant of trees and forests go, What do you hear? Are these words a pulsation in your lips? Would you break the peace of this hour?

These words are not spoken words. Are open windows for you to hear, but only if don’t look, only if you stand still and let the echo of the silence come in.

These words are not open windows. Are calm after storms that never arrived to your street. Are the serenity of fresh roads that washed the town away.

These words are not the calm after the storm. They talk about themselves. They talk to you about themselves. What would they say?

How do words remain on us? Will you open your hand and let words soar away? Will you look at me slowly before saying my name?

My hands gently stroke the night.

Here the secrets are kept, voices are shut, our images are cleansed.
In this silence all time arrives, all memories take place, all desires are met.
Names unravel from the soul.
Men become God.

I ask
for storms and rain
for a nightmare woven in the dark
for a Xana crying in my sleep

and after all of that

calmness

peace

in you.

One day the Sea called my name.

I remember I stood up in a hurry
like a boy
and undressed myself
and ran to her.

The feeling of water.
The sensation of salt, of seaweed.
Five minutes in the freezing Sea
were a full year in my body.

I can’t remember what happened then.
I walked out of her smiling
tired
with saltpeter memories.

Today
I go to that beach.
Never hear a murmur, a whistle, a sound.
No one calls my name.

But I always come back.

Quieres vivir deshabitado
saber
que estás fuera de ti
o que alguien más vive en tu cuerpo
despierta en tu cama
come tu pan
ama a tus mujeres.

Sin embargo
¿Cómo deshabitar un cuerpo
en el que nunca ha vivido nadie
pues no había cama
nunca hubo pan

si aquellas mujeres
ya amaban a otros?