September 2009
15 posts
2 tags
Daddy
You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time—- Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off the...
El pelotudo chispeante...
I love this guy! If you understand any spanish you will laugh your ass off with this!
unpelotudocualquiera:
Ayer domingo, se quemaron en simultaneo dos lamparitas de ambos veladores del dormitorio. Como no podía quedar a oscuras y por el día y hora era imposible conseguir una lamparita, me decidí por sacar una lámpara del aplique del techo que tenía tres. Cuando me disponía a desenroscar una...
DE CARNE SOMOS
This is an awesome short story from a guy I am following and I love most of his pieces! It is written in spanish but is really really cool, so if you know some spanish you will enjoy it.
cheers!
H.
unpelotudocualquiera:
Ahí, sin saberlo me estaba esperando. Salida de las mismísimas brasas del infierno, sudorosa e inmovil; ignoraba por completo lo que estaba por pasar. Gran parte de la mañana...
2 tags
Female Author
All day she plays at chess with the bones of the world: Favored (while suddenly the rains begin Beyond the window) she lies on cushions curled And nibbles an occasional bonbon of sin. Prim, pink-breasted, feminine, she nurses Chocolate fancies in rose-papered rooms Where polished higboys whisper creaking curses And hothouse roses shed immortal blooms. The garnets on her fingers twinkle quick And...
2 tags
Aftermath
Compelled by calamity’s magnet They loiter and stare as if the house Burnt-out were theirs, or as if they thought Some scandal might any minute ooze From a smoke-choked closet into light; No deaths, no prodigious injuries Glut these hunters after an old meat, Blood-spoor of the austere tragedies. Mother Medea in a green smock Moves humbly as any housewife through Her ruined apartments,...
2 tags
Dialogue Between Ghost and Priest
In the rectory garden on his evening walk Paced brisk Father Shawn. A cold day, a sodden one it was In black Novemeber. After a sliding rain Dew stood in chill sweat on each stalk, Each thorn; spiring from wet earth, a blue haze Hung caught in dark-webbed branches like a fabulous heron. Hauled sudden from solitude, Hair prickling on his head, Father Shawn perceived a ghost Shaping itself from that...