onda corta...desde moscú

se escabullen algunas emisoras A.M. en mi radio...se apaga sola a veces...la única que tiene ecualizador y parlantes grandes, pero de los cuales se escucha sólo uno. la hemos arreglado, pero dura buena un día...volver a los discman, luego de haber entrado en la era flash, luego de haber pasado por los cassetes sin haberlos dejado nunca...en fin, en lo personal, no me gustaron los ganadores de la categoría poesía...de haber habido algunos mejores entre los cientos que mandaron..no tan blandos...pero me gusta la idea de haberle "ganado" a buena parte de los que estaban en el salón ese día, aunque no con el escrito que yo pensaba...gané pero no tanto, y siento que las menciones honrosas tienen poco de eso último...tod@s andaban con para-aguas, como escapando de la lluvia...algunos creo actuando como si no quisieran mojarse...uno nunca sabe.
chaaaaoooooo...hasta otro día en que el cielo se digne a desaparecer y la tierra quede desierta...nuevamente.








nubes capturadas por error.
..




















¿será acaso dios dispuesto al fin a darnos nuestro merecido?...en la pared de aquel baño decía Jesus salva, aún hay tiempo, y yo le agregé salvate, aún hay tiempo...o sea, que Jesus aún tiene tiempo de salvarse de nosotros...de puro aburrido todo eso.

dos al hilo...

no se por que pero generalmente quedo con una necesidad de vacío y cierta extrañeza...


The Aliens


you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
friction or
distress.
they dress well, eat
well, sleep well.
they are contented with
their family
life.
they have moments of
grief
but all in all
they are undisturbed
and often feel
very good.
and when they die
it is an easy
death, usually in their
sleep.

***

The Man with The Beautiful eyes


when we were kids
there was a strange
house
all the shades were
always
drawn
and we never heard
voices
in there
and the yard was full of
bamboo
and we liked to play in
the bamboo
pretend we were
Tarzan
(although there was no
Jane).
and there was a
fish pond
a large one
full of the
fattest goldfish
you ever saw
and they were
tame.
they came to the
surface of the water
and took pieces of
bread
from our hands.

our parents had
told us:
“never go near that
house.”
so, of course,
we went.

we wondered if anybody
lived there.
weeks went by and we
never saw
anybody.

then one day
we heard
a voice
from the house
“YOU GOD DAMNED
WHORE!”

it was a man’s
voice.

then the screen
door
of the house was
flung open
and the man
walked
out.

he was holding a
fifth of whiskey
in his right
hand.
he was about
30.
he had a cigar
in his
mouth,
needed a
shave.
his hair was
wild and
uncombed
and he was
barefoot
in undershirt
and pants.
but his eyes
were
bright.
they blazed
with brightness
and he said,
“hey little
gentlemen,
having a good
time, I
hope?”

then he gave a
little laugh
and walked
back into the
house.

we left,
went back to my
parent’s yard
and thought
about it.

our parents,
we decided
had wanted us
to stay away
from there
because they
never wanted us
to see a man
like
that,
a strong natural
man
with
beautiful
eyes.

our parents
were ashamed
that they were
not
like that
man,
that’s why they
wanted us
to stay
away.

but
we went back
to that house
and the bamboo
and the tame
goldfish.
we went back
many times
for many
weeks
but we never
saw
or heard
the man
again.

the shades were
down
as always
and it was
quiet.

then one day
as we came back from
school
we saw the
house.

it had burned
down,
there was nothing
left,
just a smoldering
twisted black
foundation
and we went to
the fish pond
and there was
no water
in it
and the fat
orange goldfish
were dead
there,
drying out.

we went back to
my parents’ yard
and talked about
it
and decided that
our parents had
burned their
house down,
had killed
them
had killed the
goldfish
because it was
all too
beautiful,
even the bamboo
forest had
burned.

they had been
afraid of
the man with the
beautiful
eyes.

and
we were afraid
then
that
all through our lives
things like that
would
happen,
that nobody
wanted
anybody
to be
strong and
beautiful
like that,
that
others would never
allow it,
and that
many people
would have to
die.



Charles Bukowski

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