•Morelia cemetario 2010- Mexico

•Morelia cemetario 2010- Mexico
For me it's a curious thing
To come from the flesh
To feel a life wash over my skin
A pebble Amidst a lost river of people
Flowing far from their source
To hard urban jungles
That strangle the earth
A million beating hearts march
Two feet close to the earth
When decay finally rolls up
As the foam washes the shore
A billion unheard poppings
Of seeds that are no more

In this urban jungle place
Where nobody sleeps
they build tiny houses
And once a week do sweep
Away the dust and earth gathered
Around their corazon
The transient tissues
Of paper and flesh
Once born are all now gone
A curious thing don't you think
Not a clever little trick
That at the source of the river
We try to hold nothing with brick
The steel fleur de leas garnish
A glass fragile coloured cross
And the trees take root on rafters
To show that you are lost
We travel separated
away from the one source
But all rest as one together
in places not south
And not north
Not inside the houses we visit
And so tenderly do sweep
But inside each one of these bodies
we curiously keep

•Simply said

•Simply said
I wished i were dead
After three years of hiking
Where nothing was said
Different voices and different tongues
Strolling avenidas
Climbing the villas
Parking my carcass
In my hammock on vistas
Waking up on the streets
Sleeping on beaches
Not waking up as dead
As the lone mosquito on my foot
Dengue for breakfast
it's just not for me
I climb down from the flamenco view
I stare at the citadel sky
The morning blushes to see me
And Venus quietly leaves the room
My head banging cachasa rythyms
And black beer anecdotes
And detangle my web catcher
From the cut tail of a caught kite
A paper-cut tounge now ever silent