miércoles, 13 de octubre de 2010

versos que valen la pena resonar

The Verification of Vulnerability: Bog Turtle

by Pattiann Rogers

Pattiann Rogers
Guarded by horned beak and nails, surrounded
By mahogany carapace molded in tiles
Like beveled wood, hidden within the hingeless
Plastron, beneath twelve, yellow-splotched
Black scutes, buried below the inner lungs
And breast, harbored in the far reaches
Of the living heart, there it exists,
As it must, that particle of vulnerability,
As definite in its place as if it were a brief glint
Of steel, buried inside the body of the bog turtle.

And it is carried in that body daily, like a pinpoint
Of diamond in a dark pouch, through marshy fields
And sunlit seepages, and it is borne in that body,
Like a crystal of salt-light locked in a case
Of night, borne through snail-ridden reeds and pungent
Cow pastures in spring. It is cushioned and bound
By folds of velvet, by flesh and the muscle
Of dreams, during sleep on a weedy tussock all afternoon.
It is divided and bequeathed again in June, protected
By thick sap, by yolk meal and forage inside its egg
Encompassed by the walls of shell and nest.

Maybe I can imagine the sole intention present
In the steady movement of turtle breath filled
With the odor of worms this morning, stirring
Clover moisture at the roots. Maybe I can understand
How the body has taken form solely
Around the possibility of its own death,
How the entire body of the bog turtle
Cherishes and maintains and verifies the existence
Of its own crucial point of vulnerability exactly
As if that point were the only distinct,
Dimensionless instant of eternity ever realized.
And maybe I can guess what it is we own,
If, in fact, it is true: the proof of possession
Is the possibility of loss.

martes, 28 de septiembre de 2010

a que no, a que no

Humus con guineo.
Doritos con Nutella.
Waffles con queso.
Pizza con Pina.
Tuna con Jalea.
¿A que no te atreves?

sábado, 25 de septiembre de 2010

lunes, 30 de agosto de 2010

para jorge

no me extermines
solo quiero mirarte de lejos aunque este cerca
me agarre al seguro de esta ventana para poder mirarte
a traves de un cristal lleno de huellas digitales
que limpias con windex.
No me banes...yo me puedo banar solita...
solo dejame aqui posada en tu ventanita
para poder verte dormir aunque te tapes hasta el coco con la sabana y
solo dejes tus pies al desnudo.

mas de Aakash, esta vez Banksy reeeemix


gracias a mi amiga laurita por ponerme alante con esta gatis

Apparently I felt from a Rowan Tree



Aakash Nihalani

good to know.

Pero lo unico que veo son relojes... relojitos.
El tiempo se apodera de todo! Escape! Caos! A quien no le gusta el caos!
Se que tus manecillas se apoderan de cada movimiento que hago.

Estimado Tiempo:

Estimando los minutoes que invierto agobiando mi espalba con la carga que tus manecillas puntiagudas derraman, espero que derrames en mi una comision de oportunidades.
Exonerame del miedo de caminar por un pasillo de extranjeros que desconocen mi lengua, aunque quiza sepan mas de la vida que los que rien a mi derecha.
No sufras por mi, yo prometo desarticular la fonetica de todas las palabras que utilice para idear tu nombre.
Amen.

domingo, 29 de agosto de 2010

encontrado en el rincon de algun libro trascendentalista en un cubby de bread and puppet

public opinion is a weak tyrant compared with our own private opinion.
what a man thinks of himself, that is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate.