The corpse probes the humidity Thrown in a unknown place From an araucaria the night in the form of a bird None of us were there or were arrested The bullet inside froths with the rivers’ tread Its figure is lost in the fog Like a shadow that peeks through the ice The first […]
En el trayecto que va de la farmacia a la comida china no temas olvidar quién fuiste aquella vez en un río del sur la corriente helada entre las piernas los restos de alerce varados o esas tres toninas que te siguieron el paso porque más terrible aún sería volver a ese lugar sin […]
On the road that goes From the drugstore to Chinese food Fear not forget Who you were That time in a southern river The frozen current streaming between your legs The debris of abandoned larch Or those three dolphins that followed your stride Since it would be more terrible yet to return to that […]
At a bus window steamed by a long journey’s haul a little boy, his eyes unrepentantly, almost like lightning with just one of his fingers drew the solution to the enigma. Observing his work the conjunction of numbers and letters, he sheathed, unflinching, his sweater’s sleeve saluting thus the mist and its clearings in […]
En la ventana de un bus empañada por el cansancio de un viaje un niño, sus ojos sin disculparse, casi como un relámpago, trazó con uno de sus dedos la solución al enigma. Observando su obra, la conjunción de números y letras, empuñó -sin gesto- la manga de su chaleco despidiendo la bruma y […]
El que siempre intentó patear la pelota que Lucy le quitó del pie. El niño al que un árbol devoraba su cometa. La obra de un caricaturista triste que se retrataba aún en sus peores momentos, abandonado por su mujer con la depresión amarrada al cuello. El día que Charlie Brown decidió hacer su […]
He who always tried kicking the football That Lucy pulled away from his foot The boy whose comet a tree devoured. The work of a sad cartoonist Who portrayed himself even at his worst, Left by his wife with depression gripping at his neck. The day Charlie Brown decided to make a living Getting […]
The first condition for whaling: to grab the harpoon at the center from chagrin’s center; assimilate the solitary nature of a giant squid. All depth is just inhospitable geography, given there’s nothing but iron in the flesh, trimming beards, assessing the fat. All delicacy is abandoned on this stage, this choreography of blood, its […]