Escudos y búsqueda

No se trata sólo del sol
Casi nada de la casa en la que vives
Ni mucho del estado del mundo
Pasas encima como un pájaro con un hambre ridícula
Poco te mantiene, apenas el aire sucio y condensado
Paseo por debajo, ofreciendo
No llamar, no contestar
Ya me cuentan tus fracasos
Me recuerdan mis delirios
precipitacionesincongruenciasestancamientoobsesión
mi poca fé en la palabra -¿o la tuya?

una sensibilidad a retrasos de avance en comunicación inundación
una sensibilidad que ningún poeta osaría a exponer, no exagero
ni esta herida social ni la consecuencia de mi cielo claro
Ya que se trata deir a pescar almas conscientes, o dejarse pescar
acabar con falsedades dominantes, problemas más graves de los que hablas

Time Zones

The restless night miraculously gives birth to a pictorical awakening

My true eyes are wide and open and that's what counts, isn't it?

Sponges of sunlight and shadows of leaves on my brown bare legs

These true eyes, their own defensive rays,

My courage, my shade

A restful day unsurprisingly recycles reminders
of disappointing eyes that can't see, can't see you, your lips
and the concert of your words, better live.

I still stare but am I facing the right way?

Me backwards, you forwards

Our days are the other way around
and we're really just going in circles
chasing our duties
      bumping into local chance
planning our phone calls

Not under a simultaneous sun

But when you're deep in dream, I'm surely dreaming too
Then the sun sets
and so do the off and on distractions
The night creeps up
and so does impatience
that menaces my easy talent
to know when my eyes are open or shut
which cell phone is telling the right time

and which side of the ocean I'm on