Monday, 17 February 2014


They say when you are about to die                                                                you can see your entire life
I can see everything        the GP a couple of years ago       trains yelling         the warmth of your thighs.

Persimmons are the silence of my childhood                                               lychees the placenta of a cat.

                                           A couple of weeks ago I went to a Chinese restaurant with my friend Rubén
they gave us a fortune cookie         mine said you cannot go back go forward            lachrymose ending.

It was a tepid autumn                                                            the year in which we met for the first time.

November 9th winter started.        No lambs in the meadows but enough pathos to keep me hypnotized.
I sought words for roots            swore on that God I don’t believe in                that I’d write every day.

It doesn’t hurt as it used to and this hurts me                                                         epiphanies departed.

                                                            Yesterday you cursed me because I’m going to Colchester and         then you laughed when I said in my humble opinion because you think there’s nothing humble in me.

More limpid today                        less infected by bacteria.                           Not even dead I’d go back.