Photographer Alex Boyd
Fácil es el nacimiento:
Tú te conviertes en ti mismo
Fácil es la muerte:
Tú dejas de ser tú
Podría haber sido a la inversa
como en el mundo de los espejos:
La muerte podría haberte dado a luz
y la Vida haberte apagado
lo uno igual que lo otro-
y quizás sea así:
vienes desde la Muerte, y lentamente
tu Vida es aniquilada
Gunnar Ekelöf
de “El Señor de Fatumeh”, 1966
La infección es más grande que las tristeza; lame los parietales torturados, entra en los dormitorios del sudo y del láudano y luego tiembla como un ala fría: es la humedad de los agonizantes.
Viene despacio la paloma impura, viene a los vasos llenos de sombra
y la ceniza capilar se extiende sobre vestigios de mercurio y llanto.
La lente anuncia la mendicidad pero su luz procede del abismo. Ante las córneas abrasadas penden los hilos del silencio. Luego
las desapariciones bajan el corazón.
Atonio Gamoneda, Libro del Frío
Infection is larger than sadness; it licks tortured partitions, it penetrates the bedrooms of sweat and laudanum and later it shakes like a cold wing: it is the dampness of people who are dying.
The impure bird arrives slowly, comes to the cups full of shadow
and capillaries of ash spread over remnants of mercury and tears.
The lens reveals mendacity but its light comes from the abyss. In front of the scorched corneas hang threads of silence. Later
the disappearances depress the heart.
Atnonio Gamoneda, Book of Cold
Thanksgiving Prayer
Thanks for the wild turkey and the passenger pigeons, destined to be shat out through wholesome American guts.
Thanks for a continent to despoil and poison.
Thanks for Indians to provide a modicum of challenge and danger.
Thanks for vast herds of bison to kill and skin leaving the carcasses to rot.
Thanks for bounties on wolves and coyotes.
Thanks for the American dream, To vulgarize and to falsify until the bare lies shine through.
Thanks for the KKK. For nigger-killin’ lawmen, feelin’ their notches. For decent church-goin’ women, with their mean, pinched, bitter, evil faces.
Thanks for “Kill a Queer for Christ” stickers.
Thanks for laboratory AIDS.
Thanks for Prohibition and the war against drugs.
Thanks for a country where nobody’s allowed to mind the own business.
Thanks for a nation of finks. Yes, thanks for all the memories— all right let’s see your arms! You always were a headache and you always were a bore.
Thanks for the last and greatest betrayal of the last and greatest of human dreams.
W.S.Burroughs
United States of America…
.
.
Cremáster sun. by Ángela Burón on Flickr.
One Nation under God
has turned into
One Nation under the influence
of one drug
Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation
Disposable Heroes Of Hiphoprisy
El placebo es mío. by Ángela Burón on Flickr.
One Nation under God
has turned into
One Nation under the influence
of one drug
Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation
rain vs sun
gfmolinero, instagram.com
![En la noche sin fin, en medio de la oscuridad que empapa, llevo puesto un traje blanco que brilla entre las hojas negras que caen, entre
las lunas de los postes de luz recubiertas de insectos. Camino entre los árboles de color esmeralda en la noche sin fin. Voy cruzando
la calle, luego desaparezco cuando doblo la esquina. Brillo al atravesar el parque, rumbo a la estación donde me están esperando los otros.
Muy pronto viajaremos por la oscuridad sin sonido, con fuegos para guiarnos por el áspero terreno de la noche sin fin.
[…]
Mark Strand](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mal7imTAna1qa46zqo1_400.jpg)
En la noche sin fin, en medio de la oscuridad que empapa,
llevo puesto un traje blanco que brilla
entre las hojas negras que caen, entre
las lunas de los postes de luz recubiertas de insectos.
Camino entre los árboles de color esmeralda
en la noche sin fin. Voy cruzando
la calle, luego desaparezco cuando doblo la esquina.
Brillo al atravesar el parque, rumbo
a la estación donde me están esperando los otros.
Muy pronto viajaremos por la oscuridad sin sonido,
con fuegos para guiarnos por el áspero terreno
de la noche sin fin.
[…]
Mark Strand
Techo de menos. by Ángela Burón on Flickr.
My beast comes in the afternoon
he gnaws at my gut
he paws my head
he growls
spits out part of me
my beast comes in the afternoon
while other people are taking pictures
while other people are at picnis
my beast comes in the afternoon
across a dirty kitchen floor
leering at me
Bukowsky
Artist, once
That was in a room for rent.
It had a window and a bed,
it was enough for dreaming,
for stunning facts like being
at last, and undeniably
in NYC, enough to hold
enfolded as in a pregnancy,
those not-yet-painted works
to be. They, hanging fire,
slow to come—to come
out—being deep inside her,
oozing metamorphosis
in her warm dark, took
their time and promised.
Fast forward. Trapped in now,
she’s not all that sure.
Compared to what entwined
her mind before the test,
before the raw achievement
pat, secure—oh, such bounty
to be lived, yet untasted,
undefined—all the rest…
Teacher said, “You don’t obey.
You fidget and twidget
And won’t sit down.
So go stand in the corner now
‘Til I say you can turn around.”
So there I stood ‘til it got dark
Without a whimper or a tear,
‘Til everybody else went home.
I guess that she forgot me here.
And that was Friday, so I stayed
All through the weekend—bein’ good,
And Monday was the first day of
Summer vacation, so I stood
Through hot July and sticky August,
Tryin’ to obey her rule.
Stood right there until September,
When—yikes— they closed down the school!
Boarded up the doors and windows,
Moved to a new one way ‘cross town.
So here I’ve stood for forty years
In dark and dust and creaky sounds,
Waiting for her to say, “Turn around.”
This might not be just what she meant,
But me—I’m so obedient.
“Obedient” by Shel Silverstein
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Noted elsewhere
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Nocturno 3
Oliverio Girondo.
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-No. Con ese cuchillo que está afilado.
-Con la navaja.
-No. Con este cuchillo.
-¿Se matan así los locos?
Julio Cortazar, “Rayuela”
-
No te conoce el toro ni la higuera,
ni caballos ni hormigas de tu casa.
No te conoce tu recuerdo mudo
porque te has muerto para siempre.
No te...
