ENGLISH WORKS

POETRY

Poet

The poet wakes up and says: “it is waking up the poet”. He would go throughout the aisle and walks reaching the bathroom. The poet drops out his clothes and bounds to come out the liquid which was inside belonging to him, performing him, then, he turns around toward the mirror and says “there is a poet in front of the mirror”. This poet charges with some face by force, he is carrying something as weird as a face which most of the time, never recognizes it, but has to assume, to adapt, to defend it. “This is the poet´s face” _he says_, it keeps discomposed on settled parts which he can’t take off even when he washes his face,  no matter how he scrubs, they are added parts, quite loyal, shadows with some kind of volume.

He washes his hands which are added parts at the end of his arms, which are fixed parts at the top of his charge. If there´s no water he shakes them and says, “the poet shakes his hands”, most of the time he doesn´t know what to do with them and he invents different games.

The poet have built the road which starts when he makes the first step, the poet moves his foot which is the extension of the down zone and says “the poet walks”, he is believed he is able to do it and moves as if the weight belongs to him and says “the poet is able to do it”. He´s sure things turns around if he wants to and comes out to the garden.

For talking on aloud silence it is necessary a night and a garden; every time we mention aloud a poem we kill the infinity and it´s not difficult to get a garden when we really wish it, when we want it with a strong force, and the poet has a pot and one grass and he says, “the poet has comes out to the garden. Still the night left.

CLOWN

In the future I will be my own owner, I´ll have property of mine, I am going to get a contract of myself; meantime it won´t happen, I will take my face painted and I´ll be two ones. I know how to describe myself, I do that which is about counting some parts ¿what is its name?  Inventory. I´ll make strides and little jumps over the stones of the antic demolition, then, I´ll return as from another past life, like a faking gymnast who jumps. We both go joined, always. I get it well divided, we share each other the extremes so do not forget us, one of then sleeps and dreams, the other one lives ¿which of them is the Gertrud Stein´s rose?

Well, forgetting is forgetting, if it is not, you have two roads, keeping on from branch to branch or fade yourself in the hole, and one of us used to forget. Oblivion knows where to find you, it has your name, your address, schedule, obsessions and bungles, it knows where should waiting for you, takes advantage; one of them forgets and smile when falcon piss, those who herds the crowd in the name of the same crowd they hate. The other one signs up himself by parts, so, anything worries me, doesn´t scare me.

 

 

    Vista Festival. Miami 2015








 

Sibila
http://karyonkuma.blogspot.com/2014/04/poetry-sibila-poem.html




Escorzos
First Edition
http://karyonkuma.blogspot.com/2014/04/escorzos-first-edition.html