Epsom Salt And Urine Smell

Tomorrow breathe, and little else.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010.

Today I stocked up on what it takes to not need to take a week away from home.
not go to malls, cinemas and bars that are open.
That for me not look like a holiday, it is not.
I perform these activities not usually occupy my time.

do not support unions by or against the government. I do it in full freedom of expression and conscience, but then one or another feather in the cap. And they convey even my children not to go to school, not because the classes are not going to perform normally, but in protest against the future, not too distant and uncertain, which awaits the Labor Reform. They will also strike.

Tomorrow the world will not know me.
tiptoe just to attend the demo in Plaça Universitat.
What else I can do?

At 23:55 h. Today, at the latest, I switching off the network.
And hopefully if you read this is not the Wednesday 29, the day of general strike.

until Thursday at the earliest.

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two accents: Meeting of poets of Puerto Rico and Spain

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my belly is the best lubricant for the engine

(original photo source: The Glass Eye)

dreams to play this afternoon, yes, play yo-yo with suspended bans of watercolors that are still in the sky and that bold, eventually, as always, excommunicated.

In an oversight of my eyelids, red
has sat on the couch,
and made my navel
the best lubricant for the engine of melancholy.

window, not wanting to be outdone,

was naked from the waist down to let me see how the clouds are becoming the ugly mole that is the time when you play be an artist in the mouth of a scarecrow. And last but not least, sidewalks boomerang throwing their tongues at the foot of the girls while the air
delay the pupils to keep rhythm.

may be true what they announce the

parks pavilions and Penelope is ready to reinvent her womb at the precise moment
in which the soul is filled with impossible. Marian


Ramentol

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This poem belongs to the book
Duología
Poetics, which itself comprises two different books,
A Blues is not sufficient reason to die
, and I intend
Guerrilla Poems a sudden attack of God
attic.
poem "My belly is the best lubricant for the engine of melancholy"
belongs to the first, won the First Prize
national poetry

Antero Jiménez 2006, and was published by Editions Athens in 2008.

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MELANCHOLY LAVA OTHER SKIN IS TO BE SAD TO HAVE DECIDED TO LOOK

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hung out to dry



website this picture: milth.multiply.com

pain is the law of gravity LR
soul.
My flesh tells me that in one of my corners
opens a crack and for her talk of vampires, bandages certainty, that little girl still in my

and that is like a urgent letter unaddressed, even the years ooze,

so broken that serve as insulation for the time my mother's profile in the mirror, the eyelids of a cloud, and occasional oil and water phantom.
to be balanced smile that cut arterial no bridges or floats, without chords on the wound, no kiss
where the fence can be written and
comes from deep inside. That

catchall life takes a day even if second hand

beats are manual and eyes too light to play hide

the only ones able to make you turn up the body to the head.

With an eye to dry
see a reflection in the wall, as I licked lick
afternoon
many times and I still wear the dream,
the last, that I named. -------------------------------------------------
----------
Poem poems belonging to
With my name on the bed bent
, won the national award

Chords (Espiel). 2010.