A mis temores pregunto
qué traen ellos en las alas

(Suspensos, aletean sin prisa
siniestros enlutados, agoreros
sicarios de los relojes,
viciados en carroñas)

Recitan ellos, graznando:

“Ya sabes … lo de siempre traemos:
Tiempos Muertos
Pasados, Futuros, Sombras
promesas como blasfemias
terraplenes de basura
perpetuas prisiones
musgos apodrecidos
recuerdos e ilusiones”

Y yo, que de eso no quiero nada
que solo el Presente quiero!

el Presente, mi amigo joven
el más Vivo entre los Tiempos
(el que nada miente porque Nada anuncia
el que espera Todo porque nada espera)

Mi Presente, mi querido
mi bello cenit sin sombras
vértigo, vértice, verticonte
meridiano cero, mediodía
mi simple luz de verdades
             (corazón grato, regalo y casa)

Pasado y Futuro es Sombra
que me miente, que se inclina
se agiganta o desvanece
se rezaga o me adelanta
me abandona y me vende

(sombra que al sol moviente presta su fé
sombra que a mi Temor obedece)

Mi Presente es sentimiento
(el dado y el recibido) 
es lo vivo, es lo de hoy
luz que abarrota mis ojos
mano que me llega y siente

Por eso a esos cuervos digo
que se evaporen
que se revuelen
que se vayan a los trópicos
que a otro incauto se apeguen

A mis temores ahuyento
con puñetazo tenaz
con este grito cansado
con un cartucho de sal!



Yo digo que ha sido el viento,
ese soplón tirano,
el que arranca el tejadillo
y desmorona el geranio

el que me aventa las ramas
el que me roba los versos
el que me rompe las fuerzas
el que me seca los labios

el que embiste contra el faro
y deshilacha banderas
el que me azota en los muelles
el que enloquece las aguas

ese que me eolifica y me cefiriza
que me levantiza y me monzonea
aquel que sin piedad me remolinea
me desnortea y me tramontaniza!

el flamígero, el que me abrasa
el que lento devora la esfinge
el que fiero estremece las dunas

(el tempestuoso y el intempestivo)

ese fanfarrón ululante
          el que derrota la gaviota
ese, el mismo viento, 
es el que a veces me sopla al oído 
       palabras en añicos
                   amenazas como tempestades
                               y miedos como vidrieras rotas



Fieles sueños risueños
¡cómo ellos me recuerdan a mí
cuando yo más me olvido de ellos!

Solo lo flexible permanece
lo desamarrado, lo que ya vuela
lo que mi alma libera, lo que ya fue

Y sólo a aquello desprendido
a lo sutil, a lo ya olvidado
(aunque mío, tan mío)
a lo volátil, lo que dejé marchar
Sólo a eso llamo mío

De este modo iba pensando
cuando algo así como un viento
(remolino, escaramuza)
me espolea por detrás
me revuelve y me despierta

Pero no era remolino ni viento,
sino dos mendigos-sueños
  como dioses ínfimos, menores,
    suplicándome, recordándome
          que de nuevo les preste mi fé



A Warrior of Time
on earth your sluggish steps
an eternally enforced speed-limit
a still liturgy of distance

(nature´s vengeance
for your endless life)

An anguished dream
made of blackened sand
a nightmare like a curse
returning every night to your chelonian brain:
a close escape at dawn, a lucky break
a leap of life into your motherly waters

(that seagull cursed you
with a thousand harsh squawks
just to avoid the shame of being
"slower than a turtle")

Messenger of Osiris
Stela in Yucatán
When nothing is anymore
your empty shell will remind us of
The Mother of War
The Great Witness
The Explorer, The Dreamer, The Geographer
The One who saw it all

(hence your tired-looking eyes)

Now, on your final voyage
caressed by warm currents
your carapace returns to that beach
where the most delicate hands
will give it its final dignity

(Nailea cries as she recognizes her friend
for she rightly believed in your timelessness...
...then, still in tears
she works your  hollow shield
into the most exquisite comb
so that you can for ever caress her honey hair)



lovable gull, queen of waves
salt and wind built into your senses

you alone fill my eyes
bird of radiance

dazzling diving arrow
carnival fisher
for a golden second
you become fish
to steal your prey 
from the waves

(my eyes sealed this bond with you
for they are fishers of wonders too)

Wings rest with the sunset
the gull is done with work
the gull sisters then become a colony:
every one turns into a sandy sunflower
as they silently pray 
all heads pointing mathematically
to their god
reaching out to catch
his last warming caress

At last the night comes
and the gull dreams
with a distant time
when she was but
a slippery fish
who dreamed of flying 


So, human, what do you do when you want to watch dangerous predators without exposing yourself  to risk? Easy. You get your noisy kids and drive to the Zoo. So easy. Tired of National Geographic? Want a bit of the real thing? "Darling, pack a picnic! This Sunday we go to the Zoo!!". Bastard.

You love us, don't you, animal lover? After all, you were animals yourselves, or so you believe. Since you have progressed your way up to the top of the evolutionary ladder, you feel rightly entitled to watch safely the circus from behind the fences. You believe you got that privilege from outsmarting everyone else. Moron. You're deadly wrong (Oops. I said it. It's a good thing you can't really hear anymore).

But let me tell you, human, how low a form of life you are. From our vantage point of being your enslaved entertainment, we observe you every day. We cross data, man. And very efficiently, at that. We realize how fragile you are. And HOW IDIOT, my god. I hope you are tasty at least.

At the entrance gates, you won't notice anything unusual. Pushed by your excited kids and by your own voyeur instincts, you don't even realize you have lost your finest senses, your instincts no longer talk to you. As the king of nature, awareness is something you don't need anymore, right? Think twice, imbecile. Today my plan is to celebrate victory with a different kind of meal. Yes Sir. Yummy Sir.

So your sense of smell doesn't tell you anything at the gates? You belong to that endless human stream with a stupid and excited smile printed on the face, shameful bunch of  circus-goers. Get in the line, go buy your ticket, don't forget the extra one for the special exhibit on the House of Reptiles, with discount. Your kids will be sooo impressed they won't blink. Believe me. The flabby little bastards will love you for the ice cream you bought them. That's it, if they survive. What do you think? Will they outrun the crocodiles? That's a hard one. They are fast. 

Your ears are not useful either, to make sense of what is going on along our cages. Does the screaming at the main ape cage sound unusual? Of course not. They are just cute monkeys aren't they? As a cultured man, maybe you will allow yourself a contemplative look to Tristan, the old and quiet gorilla, who will look reflectively at you. For a minute, you will consider how near both your species are after all ("It looked as if he were really thinking"), just to dismiss the idea one minute after. Oh man, I told you, Tristan IS REALLY thinking.  How can YOU be such a pathetic asshole? It must take some effort on your part.

But in fact you could have saved your life and your kids' if you had payed a little attention. You see, this Sunday is a special one for us. Jeez, we have been preparing this FOR AGES. You are so right damn stupid I feel inclined to give you a chance. Who knows...with a bit of a head-start, the adrenaline might make your meat taste better.

No, I won't spoil what my sisters and brothers and myself have been cooking for such a long time. Hey, get a lesson from us. Here we live, spiders and elephants, chimps and  birds, big felines and little rodents. We treat each other as equals, you see. It does not matter to us whether or not the hyena is color-blind or the orangutan can use a tool to open a nut. 

Actually, when it comes to understand each other, we have grown more sophisticated than any of your kind can imagine. It started several years ago. Large apes and dolphins and whales and octopuses, they say they were the first. It does not matter anymore. Brain waves, man. BRAIN WAVES. They notice them, learnt to control them and use them. Then they taught the other brothers and sisters, one species at a time. We call that time The Awakening. At some level, any of us can speak to any other, no matter how distant our cages are. We have perfected telepathy before you humans could scratch the surface of its potentialities for yourselves. No words necessary. Just pure thought...Never mind, you could not understand anyway, you silly boy.  

I'll give you an example, imagine this: Fred the Hippo realizes there is a small security breach on his fence. He CALLS me. Imagine Teddy the Bear notices that the keepers relax security on weekends, during feeding time. He does nothing, he just let me know. I have HUNDREDS of those occurrences on my brain. By the way...Talking about security breaches, don't miss the big party today, at The House of Reptiles. I guarantee it will be worth every penny! 

And don't forget we are observing you. It's funny that you humans have become our own private circus. Your many failures as a species have accelerated the awakening. In fact you are the ones who would deserve to be here. We have been keeping a record of your behavior. Reading the panel with our feeding habits on the wild. Where to find us on the wild. Are we endangered? ASSHOLES, YOU are the endangered ones! You can't imagine what we can do NOW! Your kids want to feed us the poisonous crap they eat themselves. I'm sick of that cheap chip smell.  

Also, it fascinates me how easily bored you get when I don't "do" anything to please YOU. You just go whenever the action is. Do you want me to roar, to act as a real lion? Wait a few hours and I'll do my number only for you, only this time it will be up close...maybe closer than you'd wish.

Unlike you, we have not forgotten the path for freedom. It was somehow imprinted on our cells. Today is THE DAY. We are tired of being looked at, tired of flashes and the hideous smell of ice cones. Personally, I'm tired of my ridiculous African-looking imprisonment. Forgive me if I have this resentful look in my eyes. I'm the slave enacting his revenge dream. Today. It will be a glorious and somewhat chaotic celebration. You cannot miss it. Right after your picnic, YOU become ours.



Aguas lentas, tenaces
camino sin guía
sin mente
pies bañados en arena y sal
en su propio deseo de andar

(Si el tiempo pasa verdaderamente
no es cosa de relojes, no...
es el sol que, girando, se lo lleva)

Y aunque no quiero,
reparo veo ordeno clasifico
de pura costumbre
pongo letras paréntesis números índices
mientras mis ojos cansados
reciben el café, la mujer, la roca, 
el perro que ahuyenta la gaviota

De repente, un cosa indecible
sube por el muelle que mis pies caminan
hecha de espumas húmedas y...
(...pero no era indecible?)
un agua alta y bella
que me llueve encima
que me encharca de sal y viento
que me marea
que me desnuda de mi mente
y en su resaca se lleva
todas mis letras y paréntesis

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