1

the free wheel turns
and from the asphalt
the chains dissolve
after every consonant
like a sphere walking on heels
sums the response of your epoch
daaa-brrrum-pa-uf
the sound continues

2

on a sleeping tree
that spits butter
every other morning
MERZ came along
dancing on neglected values
like the horn of whales
bending water at every
corner
in the slums of egotism

3

art has no meaning unless
art has no arms unless
art devours brains unless
art verifies stupidity unless
art has to be edible unless
art sleeps like an idiot unless
art bleeds through my fingers
unless art

4

falling like dominos
will turn the bipolarity of the glass
only to be slashed
so I can see
my pillow that rebells
to the murdering machine
every night
every night with gloves
filled with blue feathers

5

we are born
we are children
we grow
we die
in between, there is a shadow
covering the ghost
slowly piercing your skull
singing on tip toes
in the enchanted forest

6

I call
for the un-trembling hand
amidst the violence
and humanity
against the frozen word
breast of black matter
where spring holds her veil
river stones and milk
ghost of love

7

garbage laying
daughters of despair
renounce the yolk of logic
senses shall play
as it was intended
do not let reason fool you
she’s no more than a
servant

8

who disbelieves
imaginary facts

9

the betrayal of reason

10

Popart popart
garbage of the past

11

a malicious smile
Hans Arp, Raoul Hausmann, Hannah Höch
and Richard Huelsenbeck
out of the ruins of German culture
all conceivable materials
the union of art and non-art

12

continue to study the natural world
childlike and convoluted
the elated and troubled
new forms of typography
a new visual language

13

The **** regime banned
all your creative activities
Primiti Too Taa

14
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete                                                       ­  
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete 
rakete rinnzekete 
Beeeee 
bö.

15

Why?

16

the movements of the poem
string, cotton wool or a pram wheel
equal with paint
to reverberate
carved on its journey
repeating them in many different voices
a relentless momentum

17

new people, new shapes, colors, and details

18

blast the institution of slavery
blast the educational system
blast the paper cup morals

19
simultaneous happenings
will reign in the hearts of men
and turn them small and
smaller

20

Imaginary facts and the marvelous
appearances of the right moment
which is a woman
or a dice
with the shape of a cloud
******* on happiness

21

find a place

22

The nose is a myth

23

feign of death
the modern man

A small girl just went by
Tiny little *** legs and *******
Had a six pack inside a plastic
Bag
Her lover friend was also Petit
She had long hair and the face of
An angel
They both disappeared behind
A rubber tree.

My anonymity covers the case of my lost steps when you think of me

Aceituna aceituna aceituna ¿a dónde vas cuando sales?, cuando estoy cansado y con ganas de dormir, esta vida no es para nosotros aceituna eres el amor de las cosas que se acostumbraron a la lluvia, aceituna de las enredaderas de licores y de aviones que construyen sonrisas, aceituna que deambulas  por las calles de la laguna y de otras laderas imaginables, aceituna eres la que late como uno y dos y tres cuando duermo, aceituna eres una pantera que nace sin asomarse al sol, aceituna ¿qué harían las pequeñas piedras ocultas sin tu aliento de viruta?.
Aceituna, eres la neta de los gandules y las riberas desconocidas en las cosas pequeñas, aceituna tu vives como luciérnaga de carretera.

Had the hope of giving up
as well as dying
had the hopes of any old man
with a **** for life of unstoppable
parables and boring friends

he stepped out of his house
walked as any old day
dressed on a two piece suit
went to the bus stop

He leaned to see if it was comming
and as usual he came fast
this mexican busess are all too reliable
for not following the speed
limit
He jumped in front of the bus
and ended it.

A good-looking tree informs my visit
a simple minded man rolling my feet
soil dressed by
wet moss
And the horns of the city
In the silent totality  
like the laughter of the street
Boys of infinite wisdom
Eyes turned into nothing
Setting their glaze on the prize
The Mound living soundly as a weeping caress You live in here
You were born into this The lines of hell
The waiting hours
The desperate flies
hanging as to disappear And  yet
How laughable it all is and her pair of legs Coming out of there
Like an insult to
cornered souls
In the neverness of it all
Men delights to see fallen men
Delight on horrors yet
what little do they know
when an empty
Glass picks at their Strings
And run away to see other men fall

Af all the ecstasy one can enjoy
As if with no soul
Left in some gutter while *******
              watching them go by
Flames the night to all sorrow
Hookers doing their nightly and noble
Act
An escape from the brutal
frenetic evil
My lonely nights
Of vagrancy of thought and action
Alike
The intoxicating smell of lost lives
Pipes empty of crack
The desperate look of a tormented desire
Floating the dense fog that slashes your eye

Can only talk about themselves, how they feel and think, the latter and the former are only filters of marketing and sales,  hypnotized to believe in self and the importance of you, uncle. Suicide is not allowed therefore poetry suffers a great deal, clean beauty using ****** words does not make a poem. Amerixans have more upper case words than any other planet in the milky Way, Internet, April and May together with defending us from zombies and aliens, the author has become as nasty as a rag after mopping *****. There is no escape from amerixan way of life, they will sell you one.

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.

The cat entered and she died
Her feet still moving
And I got mad
How could she forget
The unconditional love
for her feet I felt
Still moving
        they took her away
The indiferente of that cat
Moving across the tarp
How could she forget

In the street the amorous disasters
On the street my tiny forces
In the street the dead pigeons
In the street muddy gods
In the street the legs look stern
On the street my wishes overthrown
In the street my paradisiacal trees
In the street of sugar ants
In the street  my modern loves
In the street  the night lifted
In the street  the mists dispel
In the street the shadows
In the street I terrified
In the street tiny wonders
On the street my arms for trunks
In the  street deserted photos
On the street mendacious walls
In the street always diffuse
In the street names do not dress
In the street armed outside
In the  street ****** trees
In the street biased eyes
In the street

There was an empty room
Deserted
With a pack of camels laying next
To the dust
Reminded me of me
Of some other me
And the image of a crowded street
Sunny
Moving silently on a yellow light
There was no crying or laughter
Slowly moving
Nowhere in a slight peaceful coming
There was me
In all and of all
to see no more
To feel no more
Laugh no more
In the light of a soft cushion of the street
There were neither angels nor zephyrs
A plain dream presented
The first seen things returned without form, building and falling
A strange nostalgia for the future
And the lack of time remaining
Traveling further into myself
And the chatter of the job
Unstoppable deformation
With its careless activity
Erased death from the face of the earth
No wide eyed glaring at the mythical sky
Where immortality grew like a child
Crawling out of mud
Death imagined
Death and the levitating power of the dream
Around every object seen

The city body of life,
exalts despite its faults.
Wall
battlefield
****** love
on a street that does not
know of cigarette buts,
a car passes and fireflies sigh
darkness without a shadow
rockets with a thirst for ****** *******,
disappearing as a
reflection of the horse that brings
Furies
lovers
        walls of this street
similar chasms
They bend to the value of poverty,
        walks on this crowded
Avenue of death,
you will see guts shaking
in the mirror of the morning.

Joel is a doorkeeper
for a rusty warehouse
and has a wife
a very angry spouse
and a son
one day his hip was out
two bodies going
on different directions
his blue uniform T shirt
floating in the powdered air  
barely walking up and down

he fell
while cleaning the murky water
that flooded the region
of cement factories and grey hills
two weeks without his employers
to even pay for the pain killers
or severance pay and no off time
his face had the expression of a struggling
red snapper

together
we would watch a gossip show
on the TV
while he ate spiced dry beef
boiled eggs and rice
the stories on the TV were mostly about
spouses, children, abandonment and
violence and
girls sleeping with their step dad
a psychologist and the skinny loud mouthed
blond moderator
who acted as the defender of society
completed the act

Joel could not stand up to open the door
a doorkeeper who couldn’t open the door
finally, after two weeks of silent pain
they gave him an assistant
we packed the last China bound container
bellied up with modems
to be refurbished and resold
to a billion internet hungry
Chinese beings

My job was done
two weeks past and I came back
he was not there anymore
but I found him
200 yards away under his shack
a crammed cardboard cluster of homes
he was in bed
lost 40 pounds and was
piped up, draining blood
from the chest
and a bag of ***** attached to the waist
someone was laying next to him
sleeping the afternoon
he smiled at me
missing two front teeth
skinny as a mummy
had three tumours
one trapped between the kidney
and the spine
one more in the stomach and the last one
next to the liver
he was to be taken to the hospital
with a danger of loosing
the kidney and his life
I gave him a kiss on the forehead
and left

It was the same pink sunny day
the same old trick of a life
but something was not right
it never usually is

Joel is a doorkeeper
for a rusty warehouse
and has a wife
a very angry spouse
and a son
one day his hip was out
two bodies going
on different directions
his blue uniform T shirt
floating in the powdered air  
barely walking up and down

he fell
while cleaning the murky water
that flooded the region
of cement factories and grey hills
two weeks without his employers
to even pay for the pain killers
or severance pay and no off time
his face had the expression of a struggling
red snapper

together
we would watch a gossip show
on the TV
while he ate spiced dry beef
boiled eggs and rice
the stories on the TV were mostly about
spouses, children, abandonment and
violence and
girls sleeping with their step dad
a psychologist and the skinny loud mouthed
blond moderator
who acted as the defender of society’s
completed the act

Joel could not stand up to open the door
a doorkeeper who couldn’t open the door
finally, after two weeks of silent pain
they gave him an assistant
we packed the last China bound container
bellied up with modems
to be refurbished and resold
to a billion internet hungry
Chinese beings






my job was done
two weeks past and I came back
he was not there anymore
but I found him
200 yards away under his shack
a crammed cardboard cluster of homes
he was in bed
lost 40 pounds and was
piped up, draining blood
from the chest
and a bag of ***** attached to the waist
someone was laying next to him
sleeping the afternoon
he smiled at me
missing two front teeth
skinny as a mummy
had three tumors
one trapped between the kidney
and the spine
one more in the stomach and the last one
next to the liver
he was to be taken to the hospital
with a danger of loosing
the kidney and his life
I gave him a kiss on the forehead
and left
It was the same pink sunny day
the same old trick of a life
but something was not right
it never usually is

Be not your self
There is naught
So and sow
Be not yourself
Like a timeless moon
And drink to my fervent
soul
My flesh and bones

There is no distinction between a soap and the feeling of touch and the immortal cockroach, while I sleep in the confidence of losing everything.

Blacmanmaba calimbrrrta
Hrow hrow hrow
Trrrrim bambarrrum blacmamaba
Brrrumbabaclingata
Clingata
Clingata
Trapumbin
Blagabo­n
Blagabon
Brrrum bablank

She walks by my white floor
As if they knew nothing of the war or football
Or my wife's complaints
That sleeps
With a headache
And a trip to the Oxxo at two
In the morning
to get her aspirin
I went for a car ride
for some air
       Soccer is everywhere
everywhere
And I think of smashing a bottle of coca-cola
To the windshield of any
Pick-up
But already at home,,,, not possible
the leaves look at me
without saying a thing

How much lack of accuracy between two desperate hearts when marching without weapons

Why should I bend?
Night has qualms with destroyed souls
Only the hiss of the former days
Can restore the mattress of time
Should I repeat my self
on end higher than this?
Night becomes great deeds never uncovered
Like a woman's despair
Her self
Vigilant of departed cats
Dreaming silences
The street at her cover
Shines where there are
No more sighs
She mingles in poverty
Tries her luck as a natural state
Soul of dust paved on glory
Night seems nor dark nor dull
She steps into my soul
Dying ember suffocated
On mane.

Ruddy's was the place to be on Wednesday nights, cheap drinks, free hotdogs and the graceful presence of Times Square hookers late at night, what a wonderful scene, marines hookers and the best jazz juke box inn manhattan, rowdy and something almost always happened, better than life. I was a young man in a strange country, had my fists tested in FLA and Brooklyn for stupid prejudices on my behalf and others, words hurt only those who do not know their meaning and root. There was a black man sitting next to me, quiet and still, a true barfly, he turned and said;
- you are not from round here-
-  no - I said -I am from Mexico -
- you don't look Mexican, but let's go with it, I don't look African American either-
- r you from the south?-
-Georgia, as they call it -
-well, I've worked in FLA and met some rednecks, Cubans, blacks, but almost no Chinese-
-you mean yellow-
-or *******-
- or ****, you know men, I prefer racism down south, over there the distinction is cut loose clear, we don't like each other, but here, men I tell you, you wannanother beer?-
-sure men-
-Girls just wanna ******* cause I'm black, you know, to be cool and ****-
-yeah, Jewish girls wanna **** white Gentiles, different reasons same goal-
-I hear you, here it's all about being fashionable, but deep in the pit it's all fake as a 10 dollar coin-
  We kept at it until Beth started a fight with another ******, they were calling each other **** I've never heard.

Dilettante my love my wine
How many are you in there
How your young mind
Grows to disgust of finished things
All are one so never to be done
All are you so never to be one
Dilettante of everything
All the dreams of dreams asleep
For never to accomplish
What another man dreams
Dilettante of it all
Pleasurable being
That simply waits for sleep
and it never truly comes
Eyes, on cupboards and melted cheese
As useless as a broken
ball
The cloud is you're thing
The cloud and the grass
The grass
The grass

I never associate the plane with a hammock
The interest of my belly wins over any such
Discussion which might inevitably turn into sorrow
But, and I speak only for the asphalt, will
Innegably show disrespect to the other functions of the brain
Which astonishes me when it wants to sleep or take an independent
Walk
through the staircase of your lap
But if your lap denies the welcoming blood
Think of the shadow preserving human thought
And immediately
Imprudently all cities might fall inspite of all false pretexts
                 your leg is the salvation of man and his cubic head
You are me in the belief of nothing but pleasure
Of the heart and eyes, of the polished sword
Of the mighty octopus clinging to your mare
Of a highly anticipated degree of fresh air
Liberty draws attempts to carry all carcasses
Like a candle
Or a pill to sleep.

Her forehead listened
To the charge of disdain
Her armpit felt the swift blade
Of an electric urchin
As it descended to earth
Bearing the gift of sight
He then tossed all burden aside
Like the precize encounter
Of a short wave radio and
A breathing dog.

One loves only ghost,
So that ****** said
she left their children
to meet with her love
He left early one morning
to cross th'border for a job

In a letter written
With pen and paper
he told her so

with two children.
Hungry without food
The kids with grandparents
      she was on the run
After her ghost

I met her in a brothel
with sadenned voice
As she put on her dress
       It is a ghost
whom you just ******
Nothing ..........
I say or seem
Has reality but
In a dream

We owe a great deal to the French
The Langue d'Oc pretty much cradle
Of romantic tongue

French critical mind gave us
Some pretty good words
Baudelaire's translations of Poe

Charles Cross inventions
Rimbaud,,,,,,, where is he?
There are so many

To mention a few
But if you ever read
Benjamin Peret
Your view about poetry will change
Forevermore.

I, who did not want to see
nothing but clouds
predicting already
A snow storm
I was full of snow
Without going to school
In Mexico City
Snow?
cries the Director
Get into your class room
And stop seing clouds!
Cirrus were the guilty
For my scolding
The snow never came
The clouds passed ... ... ...
like grammar
about
My head
Clouds that can only be seen
by those who do not study
One day, I remember
I left my chair
Full of ****
the teacher did not let me go to the bathroom

She resembles a make believe song
As if my sorrow for the staircases
Of the ocean
Blue because the nymph stretches
Around the ring of perfection
When the world was as dull as a sink
When the sky looked like a pillow
Trembling behind the doors of ***
As if the leggs weren't enough
To ask for a second meal
Then
The hand cuts the melancholy pear
Swift and shinning pear
Before the branch broke in half

Nothing in your hands
I do not know what to tell you
but they are the sailing waters
and the spontaneity of your feet
When the Sun and death
haunt my waking
in this table of carbon
lust the finger lifts
and you imagine me
undone by half
but the world turns
and its delights embark on the migration
to my eyes of plant
waiting for the time of morning bath
your feet revolve with the tenderness of the foam
they ride into the roof of my house
and read Peret
love comes
as a bug
While you are distracted with the mouth
and those lips that passionately
crash each other
the violence of the clouds
are my land

pain travels in front of us
I have pursued it in your breath
from the first ray that pounded
the Earth
in the awakening of the stones
and the birds
hunger appeared
in  the beautifully useless walks
through those avenues

While the snow created flakes
to unleash the fury of the fire
at your feet I settle
sweetly
bathed and satisfied

**** she said
You are a ***** with no batteries
Like a sword with no handle
Then a cup of coffee flew straight
To my left eye
**** she said, you are worthless
That night I went to the store
Beer and mezcal were on my mind
**** she said
I've been looking all over for you
What happened to your eye?
Let me kiss you she said
I left her place this time
Early morning.

I know my steps are no more
the infinite wisdom of the masses has become
the hideout of the scoundrel
equality is the mirage of modern times
it has deprived of dignity
all personality and original thought
even to the humble
simple tasted elevated soul
since modern man entered the idea
modern blasphemy
of equality
nothing but mediocrity
flies atop purchasing corpses
of the living souls
to admire a great man you must first
belong to the unique members of humble
thought
a subtle mechanism of the mind
where awe and emotion still exist
but no
says thee equal man
you cannot enter the room
first you must (horrible word)
decline your taste and bent for
exquisite feelings and a sense of beauty
force has left the room
instead we have complaints
and a total lack of confidence in self
in adventure
and the legitimate claim
to own your life

suicide has become a crime
one of the sikness of deranged mind
it is a right

I do not belong to this world
rather to solitude
an american crime
Oh evil and murderous incantation
in nature we seek solace from the homogeneous man
civilised murdering machine
my artificiality claims the ultimate prize
in decadence and sanctity
no more shall the ruins of judgements past
will assail me
the levelling field and the love of thunder
behaviour of evil deeds shall flourish
and man standing bent on the greyish mud
will perpetually love his trap

I stayed at home, thinking
I needed time to do some thing
Artistic
But since I am not an artist
It started raining,
and I took a cab
To see my girl and
Her two lovely children
My kids
at the library
My daughter was playing with the books
on the floor
My son screaming
Dad
Dad
Dad
With his three year old voice
the very serious people looked at
My son
And wondered where the **** is
His dad
The noise the noise
I am trying to concentrate!
And I appear with my 6 feet four
Carrying my daughter
My flower in bloom
radiant like A firecracker on lonely nights
My son started giving DVD’s to all the people
Around us
He made a mess
My daughter was tossing cookies at the floor
There must have been an interesting
Animal feeding on cookie crumbles

Children really know how to behave
When we left
Boredom fell again over their heads
Consuming knowledge

While it seems like an easy task, falling in love is something that many adults have great difficulty doing. The fear of gagging causes the heart to tighten up so that love stays in your mouth until you spit it out. Fortunately, there are various ways to approach the problem so that you can relax, overcome the fear of choking, and just let the love easily slide down. It's like riding a bike - once you get the hang of it, it becomes second nature.

1
Relax. Sit down with a glass of wine and relax. Do whatever you can to ease any anxiety, such as finding a quiet place, listening to music that calms you, or dream. This will help soothe your nerves and break the association of love being stressful, so your body will be less likely to gag. Gagging is a natural response to the fear of loving.

See warnings below.

Americans love human rights
The more they scream
The bigger the crime
A marketing stratagem
The confidence man devised
Unable to touch
'you will be Tailored a suit
If you say what you think
Off to jail you go
The *** will crack
In a violent act
Delicate china flower
The human rite

the flies sleep
the POPes fall
stares and incense
water as a Firefly
climbing
dreams
and bites
lying down women
the scared child
*** chairs
honeyed ****
the Coco box
and sustained meals
used oil
molden hands
the erectile *****
with its cursed spring
the blind of the underground
tremble like leaves
mosquitoes
the endless war
for conformity reasons of
intense sentimentality
the juices from my waste
and waste
together as butter eyes
look for the lock
skins and commas
they come up and sit
where are the atoms?
the formulas
that is not a complaint or a
wet towel waiting
the laughter of ***
and happy *******
nails that do not
spend liars aloud
death does not rest
newspapers
newspapers
good to make a fire
is not necessary
to name them
delete all written in the
last three lines
and the simple duplicity of the intelligent
and their hopes of importance
When this ends or Announces
like fans in the Sun
the amendment continues
inexorable asphyxia
burn, rises as one
exquisite betrayal of the senses
the look and the perception
unfold within the bed
filled with needles in terrible ways
as vanity that passes
near avenues and springs
It does not defile
or attack the beasts
resting like a mountain
sacred mirrors
and the ghosts that spit
two stones
just to shake your lungs
and they are regarded as a
wall of the snot
devouring
air and Sun and rain and dreams

Our most misterios beings are dead
You are formidable
And with wings from the other site
Will begin to rot
Like the malady if love

if there is anything that can give me
joy
my heart laid bare and a thin
hair of your ***
but better yet it is to try
try never minding reasons
why
that is the prize

I forgot I could jump
From a higher height
Since a child a dream haunts
My waking hour
Like a private eye of my soul
Once I jumped and swore
From an impossible height
On the reality and confusion
Of truth
And dream
Memory alike
Yesterday I jumped aggain
This time into the ocean
i fell
There was a mare
A white mare
And lost friends

Love is Evil
A scarfe can be usefull
Eyelashes begin at the mouth
A ******* is the breath of God
A bed is the only counselor
An advise is a curse
Legs first
A suicide lifts all hope

She sits at her desk trying to write a story, her thigh shows like a pearl that came bouncing down the street with a Mellon attached to her ear-ring, but I can only look at her breast, her ****** and a drop of milk, our baby sleeps, she looks radians naked under the San Francisco sun, all I want to do is to have her and be inside her, all, complete as a canvas from Tanguy, but she won't let me, her writing comes first, I call a ******, she is also a woman and will be here in one hour. All because she gets me so hot. **** woman, love is the flesh we can never get.

move your body
In all directions
Move it in the sewers
Where the flower bends
Near the sea
No history or false instructions
Debug it from anxiety
yours Is the metaphor of the muscle
with infinite hunger and thirst
Swing with me
Feel the substance of death
Without the worry of space
Your body will write the verses
Your eyes, feet, and  arms move
In the joy of pain ...... full exhaustion
your imagination will find
The livelihood of wonder
ease your body  
incantation
             mechanics of the irrational
Body of poetry
   The hand the eye slit waiting
for the lover
     slowly decomposing
In the sanctity of night
Your joyful body
will contemplate
Likewise
The beat and rhythm
of your presence
In the magic and mystery
of this wandering life

So you say elephants don't fly
Or that malice was a brute
Out of a cave
But I still adore your legs
Even If you snore while caressing
My belly
Then I go for another line
A beer
And scream out the window
You in bed showing those legs
Dreaming about whales and foam

If I burn my boat, there will be no more
If I sail with my hands
there will be nothing left
If I walk around a brick
my heart will be lost
and if my heart gets
lost
I will find chance
where the sails fail
the hands steal
and I go far
as far as the castle
coming to my dream
holding a piece of silver
and the cloud
to the mountain
the deer will come
then my life will be
gone
and I will sail
with no cloth
just a hand full of hope
and in each finger
there will be a drop of blood
with all the joy
and all the pain
sailing in front of me
holding the scale
with a big mast and a hammock
instantly folding and dreaming
on this land
that it is I

Don't want to live
Don't want to die

My mother late at night naked
She was in the hall, next to the bathroom
my attraction to women has been ever since
one of fascination and horror
my aunt wanted me to have a thinner nose
fuller upper lip
then my cousin promised to show me her *******
I never saw her again
that week I dreamed of her *******
the room at my grandma's house and chess boards

mothers have more influence on the poet
than any other being
they mark his view on life
where there is no line between dream
reality fantasy tale
and myth becomes evident once you enter
risk
and you learn to accept the most
separate and distant incongruences
thanks to a mother’s irrational thought

I stepped into a carpet of bulls and cows
the animals would awake at every one
of my step
hoofs and noses pink and red
all smeared with a gelatinous substance
the tree became for me impossible
to reach

mother and the father