Mi cuerpo de agua

Mi cuerpo de agua

Se evapora con la brisa

Se condensa, se acumula

Cae del cielo en lagrimitas.

Corre libre por los ríos

Cascadas y raudales

Duerme entre los lagos

Y juega en manantiales.

Ya cansado de viajar

Impaciente en tierras bajas

Se filtra sigiloso

A descansar en aguas calmas.

Poema seleccionada como parte de la colección “Your body of water” Poetry on busses 2017. En el que aparecerá tanto en portal digital cómo en un transporte publico de la ciudad de Seattle, WA.

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Before the First Kiss

For me… for me speaks my voice, my nervous fingers, my short memory that needs to think more than once about how to describe this feeling to you, what is and what you cannot understand, that which escapes from my sad eyes in its frustrated attempt at being, even if just for a moment, understood. For me speak my lips, which I bite with every deep sigh, my impatient feet, my lost but attentive gaze, my smile, freely given and honest, and wishing to be reciprocated. For me speak these restless hands to tell you, even through silly gestures, how much I like your eyes, and how much it scares me that I like them so, and my own, my eyes, want to tell you that it doesn’t matter that there are no articulate words, that I don’t need any because my scalding mouth will learn your language with every touch, in every breath there will be a story, and in each kiss… my secrets.

I want you to know, with the clarity of my stilted words, more because of nerves than anything else, that I will give this night to you completely, from the first kiss to the farewell sun, for you to see in every stutter, in every misspoken word, that I am enchanted by your scent, your infinite nose, your crooked eyebrows and the shape of your neck, for my madness about you, about this night, about the rain that won’t let you leave and which I don’t want to end, to last forever, like your gaze that traverses me. You must realize once and for all that I am weakened by you, by your breathing, vulnerable to your hands that deliberately caress mine and by your strange accent that confuses me and interlaces clumsily with my own, that like this, so close, without saying anything, I tell you everything.

For me speaks my native language, my breath, this beating heart that I hand over to you, my foreign past and my present now with you, my uttered lies, my hidden truths, my reason for being right here on this night, and in short, and before stealing the first kiss … my desire.

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Translated by  Marie Garcia

My Harvest Moons

Sometimes, my eyes become huge like two moons and want to absorb everything, and everything seems to fit inside them. Their lashes scrape against the wind with every blink and my eyebrows raise disdainfully like the legs of a ballerina, my nose wrinkles up mystically, the volcanoes beneath my cheekbones explode and I bite my lips, thirsty for honey, hungry for warmth and another’s lips. Now and again, I forget about the imagined monsters and the ghosts of faraway houses, then my back straightens, arching ambitiously, my hips become promiscuous dancers and my defiant alabaster legs break through fears with every step. Some nights, I do not recognize myself and prefer not to, I only want to let myself be carried away by the sudden bubbling impulse that inebriates me. At times my moons become so restless that they, like lighthouses, curiously scan the streets, bars, and seas of other moons for mutual desire. Nothing troubles me but everything seduces me, corrupts me, and reduces me to the ultimate puzzle seeking to be solved, only between another’s sheets.

That’s why, when you see my moons light up like this, like comets, sparkling and rotund with secrets, as if it were October in the middle of May and all of my vernal skin could be contained in a dry autumn leaf, do not avert your gaze for an instant, hold it firm, challenging me, bite your lips and take me away with you, because this will be the only night that I… belong to you. 

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Translated by  Marie Garcia

Mi cuerpo de agua…

4Culture compartió un enlace en el evento Poetry on Buses Launch Party.

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Here’s another sneak peek for you before the event – Enmanuel R. Arjona and Moises Himmelfarb read their #PoetryonBuses poems! You’ll see them and LOTS more poets at the party on the 24th.

Mis lunas de Octubre.

A veces, mis ojos se hacen grandes como dos lunas y lo quieren absorber todo y todo pareciera caberles dentro. Rayan el viento con sus pestañas a cada parpadeo y mis cejas se alzan desdeñosas como piernas de bailarina, mi nariz se respinga mística, los volcanes debajo de mis pómulos explotan y mis labios se muerden sedientos de miel, hambrientos de calor y de otros labios. A ratos me olvido de los monstruos inventados y fantasmas de casonas ajenas, entonces mi espalda se alarga arqueándose ambiciosa, mis caderas se vuelven promiscuas danzantes y desafiantes mis piernas de alabastro rompen miedos a cada paso. A noches no me reconozco y prefiero no hacerlo, solo quiero dejarme llevar por el súbito impulso burbujeante que me embriaga. A instantes mis lunas se vuelven tan inquietas, que rebuscan curiosas como faros entre calles, bares y mares de otras lunas el mutuo deseo. Nada me perturba pero todo me seduce, me corrompe y me reduce a un acertijo final buscando ser descifrado solo al amparo de otras sabanas.
 Por eso; cuando veas mis lunas iluminarse así, como cometas chispeantes y redondos de secretos, como si fuera octubre a mitad de mayo y toda mi piel de primavera cupiera en una hoja seca de otoño, no desvíes ni por un instante la mirada, sostenla firme, desafiándome, muérdete los labios y llévame contigo, por que esa será la única noche en que yo… te pertenezca.
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