old letters that I never sent you
letters aged from reading them so much
outside a heavy rain and the sky full of lightning
a served drink and a half-finished cigarette.
the night goes on and the room fills with shadows
one by one I'm throwing the letters into the fire
and while the fire rages
I'm done with the past
tomorrow will be a new day

I sailed driven by the desire of your body
For as long as I can remember
Dazzled I saw
Enchanted islands and bright dawns
Old sorrows drove the sails of my boat
I still hope to find you
Before my ship vanishes in the mist

Life is a great spectacle
dance of masquerades
no one dares to show their true face
because if they did
it would be like seeing the Medusa of Perseus
and we would be at that moment petrified

The sun caught in your hair one april morning
Reach to make a poem
And the sea mist creeping up your long legs
It is poetry itself
And what to say about your enigmatic smile
When I touch your skin like the sun does this noon.

The bloodthirsty sword
Through the centuries
And it becomes a rifle and then a missile
Insatiable devours entire armies
Whole villages
Along the history
Insatiable gets drunk on blood
How long will this punishment be?
Will it be until the end of time?

If everything was a perpetual present
And the past and the future
Mere traps
Gadgets of a Mischievous God
That he plays
With imagined times, places and situations
Mere mirrors
Bubbles that enclose nothing
Then
I would change my life
An animal would have the power
No regrets or hope
Nothing would get in the way
Between my desire and my prey
I would be a beast on the prowl
Willing to **** or die
Without the slightest remorse

You live
Far away
Where dreams and memories dwell
At dawn I look for you there.



This bright morning in May
I wear your love
Like a beautiful carnation on the lapel of my jacket



Your hips
Bamboo Stems
Moving to the beat of the wind

In the mist of the woods
Voices are sometimes heard
In some ancient cities
Spirits wander with messages that we cannot understand
We know that there are great and hidden things that have not yet been revealed.
Maybe because we are not prepared to hear them
But they are and exist
The issue is
Will they want to warn us of something terrible that is coming?

If the way up
It's the same on the way down
Opposites touch
If we start to die from when we are born
And dawn and dusk for an instant look so alike
Opposites touch
If many things are two sides of the same coin
Separated by a thin line
Opposites touch
So agony is a way to be reborn
And the poetry of surviving in the midst of death

It's time now
To write
Everything you dreamed of


your beauty is so great
that not even the rain dared to touch you


memories
willows on the path
moved softly by the wind

One April morning rains heavily outside
my footsteps sound very muffled in the church
while the candles shine among the incense aroma


the silver-blue moon
glows in the quiet waters of Yangtze river
I have a thought for you


A gorgeous girl
Flourishes like a delicate rose
Among the streets of fast walking indifferent people


mystery things along the Inca route
walking down by a path near the river
slippery rocks in the mist
suddenly foam rises like the breath of a giant
and far away thunders roars
the Gods have spoken


These days
The claws of death lives crouched between us
but HOPE finally prevail

Loneliness walks the streets
Enters a movie theater
Sits on a park bench
Drinks a coffee
Sleeps with you
suddenly one day
you discover yourself in his gaze

let me wake you up
as tenderly
as a warm sunbeam
entering through your window

we live only once
but we die many times



Unfortunate luck
We are just like gypsies
That we can't tell each other's fortunes



We were so young; we were so crazy.
But in the end
Everything passes
Everything ends
For better or for worse
Other naive actors
Will replace us on this immense stage called life
And all of us will finally be only pasture of oblivion

The faraway blue mountain
Slowly vanishes in the early mist

this twilight resembles a photo color sepia
distant
timeless
poetic
and so painful
because of your absence

Letters aged by time
Never sent
Stuck in a desk drawer
Broken promises
In the sky the rain and lightning are woven
A poured drink and a half-finished cigarette
The gloom advances
And suddenly the room lights up
The letters are now burning

in the gloom of a provincial cinema
the old super simplex machines
throw a powerful beam of light
the people settle in the rickety armchairs
laugh, clap, cry
start dreaming for an hour and a half
outside it is pouring rain

Traces of fire
On a skin embroidered with tattoos
Body degraded
By alcohol, drugs and sin
But those hands
Oh God
Those hands created beautiful poems
That move us to tears

my loneliness
it is a kind company
never complains
nothing claims me
just a little silence
and a lovely sunset

while the wind stirs the moss on the roof
and a furious rain blinds the windows
the crackling of the burning fire
accompanies the whisper of lovers

the ashes of love
the ashes of oblivion
coincide at some point
in the flow of life
one becomes the other
a bird left its nest
and the moon shines on the still waters
passion is not understood
it only lives until it dies
any afternoon in April

The path
Upholstered
For long silences
The path
Covered in sepia leaves
That creak with the footsteps
And at the end of the road
The immense sky
Drawn by the flight of an eagle

my dear
since your departure
everything remains the same:
the leaves have turned sepia this time of year
the crickets lull me at night
and the rain sings on the old roof
just me
I have returned to smoking
Thinking of you
tell me please
How many more dawns will I have to wait for your return?

The splendorous morning
Shines in your eyes
I love you in silence

As a nightingale sings over a rock
The sun is dying under its wings

a coin flip
heads or tails
a winning dice roll 7 or 11
five cards and a royal flush is formed
you tell me
maybe lady luck will smile on you tonight
maybe yes maybe no
it's like life itself
many must lose for few to win

a burning heart
for a rainy day

the dawn and you get together
like the sea and the mist
just like rain and lightning
like the wind and the children's kites
Yeah
the dawn and you come together in my bed
when I look at you sweetly asleep beside me
and I become the guardian of your dreams

You must re-invent yourself
may your tears turn to sweet dew
that make the leaves of your soul shine



Shhh
Let the wind speak for us



loneliness is not a punishment
loneliness is the sweet companion
that whispers poetry in our ears

the sorrows and pains
that cause great love
They are just like lightning and thunder
that precede a bright morning


the sour taste of defeat
Alas of the defeated
there is no story for them
nor sorry
no compassion
they fade from the memory of the times


please dance for me
and move like the golden spikes of May
under a brilliant sun
please dance for me
fill my cup with the promise
of endless nights of wild pleasure

I can't look for you anymore
Denied paths
Forbidden trails
I am a hostage of your memory
How your absence pains me
endless sleepless nights
unfinished poems

Bright morning like an albatross' breast
Your warm body entwined with mine
The waves of the sea lulling us in the distance
I am the guardian of your dreams

You liked to invent the day
with a soft tune
Or a subtle irony
We smile willingly
But I must confess to you
That we liked the most
It was seeing your hips wave
Like spikes moved by the wind

An endless avenue
Between heaven and earth
Populated by small passions
Of even smaller beings
Polished by the rain
Doubly empty
Because of your absence
And my loneliness

the mist tangles between my feet
the sea speaks to me crashing against the cliffs
the church bells call for a mass for the dead


winter is my kingdom
the rain silver arrows
and the snow an imperial mantle


I make no effort to exist
I just try to be a faint shadow
in this valley of tears
it is immoral to take the air from another person


let us sit on the edge of the abyss
and let the seduction of emptiness trap us
to make it worthwhile to live another day

The seagulls squawk over the cliffs
The waves end like white foam at their feet
The sea is an iridescent mantle shimmering under the setting sun
Bronco, unfathomable and in perpetual motion
I contemplate it from my dimly lit room
In the distance a boat is blurred with the mist
Slowly smoking a cigarette I feel the sea talking, roaring, singing
sometimes it scares and sometimes it lulls
A melody that is lost in the beginning of time
The leaden sky announces a fine drizzle
I'll go for a walk on the beach
And the rain and the drops of the sea
Will placate this infinite sadness that sometimes assaults me
And then I'll go back to finish writing a poem

This instant
no other
neither before nor after
this instant
when you are and you stop being
water running through fingers
precisely at this moment
when life passes before your eyes
like a paper boat
getting lost on the horizon
so that
we are all made of instants
ungraspable
fleeting and irredeemable

In the heights of the Andes
The old shamans or Altomisayoq do not use the I ching
They read the coca leaves
spiritual oracle to access the future
consider that plant
a cosmic seed
fruit of the maximum goddess,
mother earth (Pachamama).
Descending from that holy goddess
They consider that she has the power to cure all ills
And know the destiny of a person.
On a colorful mantle
they throw them to the wind
and they invoke the sacred spirits in Quechua.
Practice as old as reading tea leaves
its origin is lost in the origins of time

Take a knife and cut the hollow shaft
Of a white feather
A few more deft cuts
And he has his calligrapher's pen.
In front of him, in an old leather case
More goose and swan feathers
He will begin to write on a calfskin parchment.
For the next four years the Holy Book
The illustrations will be illuminated
With gold, silver, copper and platinum
A masterpiece that will survive
Many centuries after the monk has departed.

In a secret place of an old castle
As the sun goes down
An old man descends and walks through intricate passages
Until he reaches his favorite place: the laboratory
He lights with some difficulty an iron lamp
In the background burns a stone oven
The room is spacious with several oak tables
Filled with tubes, retorts, flasks and old parchments.
Several objects on the table are made of bone
He ponders as he contemplates a bubbling cauldron.
He repeats silently "the stone is the beginning of everything".
With great effort he has managed to decipher secret codes
"Add to the eagle the dragon of ice"
"The man of fire must be fed with a snow swan"
A lifetime of trying to make gold out of a stone
Yet another night immersed in this secret world
While the old kettle seems about to explode
Outside the dawn begins to break

Here I am
in the midst of sadness
joining pieces of memories
useless effort
the hours do not retrace their steps
nor is love ever beggared

young woman, beloved mine
flames of desire in our small room
suddenly
a flash of lightning illuminated your naked body
slowly approaching me
and your enigmatic smile that invites me to paradise

The bar table displays empty beer bottles.

A cigarette is still smoking in an ashtray.

No one is sitting around

Everyone has left

After hours of talking, laughing, dreaming

Everyone went home as best they could

Countless bottles and cigarettes

Have paraded in front of us.

Countless friends and lovers

Whose names and faces we can hardly remember.

So it is and will always be

Brief instants in a sea of loneliness

Kisses, laughter and caresses that fade in time.

books everywhere
half-finished pages
the dim room
outside it rains heavily
I smoke my last cigarette
inspiration takes time to arrive

sitting at the border of nowhere
at the edge of  madness or the enlightenment
with my eyes flooded with tears
I only hope is to be rescued by the inscrutable beauty of poetry

tangled voices
with the sound of the waves
and the murmur of the trees
they say something
something suggest
a riddle
an oracle
it will be the announcement of something terrible
or a love that is approaching
this is the charm and mysterie of life itself

The truth
stream going upward to a blue mountain
impossible to conceive
impossible to reach
for this, almost all of us live behind masks that hide our essence
disguises that confuse and conceal
and finally make the truth unreachable

Life is like a twilight zone
beautiful scenery hidden by a mist
where your sight cannot reach
and you can only trust your heart

If the luster and power of today's decadent empires
fades into the mists of Time
and the myth of the eternal return is fulfilled
we shall see the rise of old and forgotten kingdoms