Creo que nítidamente sabes
que no soy la mujer que pensabas;

creo que te enteraste de mi alejamiento
porque me fui cuando llorabas;

creo que tu amor por mí te inventó
un mundo nuevo y un filtro,

detrás del cual tuviste que ser otro
y no lograste descubrir cómo…

primeval molding glare
& shiver
the combative quality
of concentrated atmosphere
too humid too infrequently
opened to the sun

you say there is warmth
hiding in the whispers
of later hours
& long years condensed
into sublime awakenings
from unstated exile

(continue reading…)

Dices que somos uno;
dices que somos mundo;

dices que éramos grandes;
dices que no hace falta

ninguna defensa;
(continue reading…)

Suddenly, she is swept up, taken off, by remorseless shadows. She is taken in by specters, haunts and villains. She is detailed and detained. Enmeshed. Embedded. Dethroned. Defrocked. She is questioned. Why? Why do you exist? And do you believe you exist? And do you believe?

You are the tip of the enemy’s spear. You are poison cloaked in truth. You are the mischief we seek to empty from this world. You are, like any other earthen vessel, breakable, and we intend to break you.

(continue reading…)

lúcidos verdes
porque una vez me dijiste
qué viene después
de la lluvia

siglos en espera
buscando utopías
inmensas cálidas
donde la sombra es sol
y el sol lluvia
de fértiles contingencias
un amor arquitecto
de mares sin fondo

voz en alarma
diez días de viaje
la esperanza

Fragmentation —of a community, of a state of historical affairs, of a set of assumptions about the world— can be used as a platform on which to build a story, or a set of references that become a poetic explanation of events, or a philosophical analysis of what may have seemed like cause and effect in one moment, while later it seems like a set of inevitable pieces fitting together to form the “big picture” that was somehow most likely to take shape.

Not so much “coincidence” as arriving at the moment of certain ascendant qualities, fitting the moment, qualified for the chance demands of the hour… try writing about how these sort of forces converge in the emotion, in the atmosphere, or in the person or group in whom your piece finds its center. Poetry, fiction, essay, reporting, non-fiction, even theoretical writing, can benefit from this approach…

In the case of Lady Chatterley, she finds herself facing the empty spaces of desire inaccessible and untamed, the anger and difficulty of a kind of existential void, not knowing on what criteria to base her choices, and she sees in the possibility of a child the hope of salvation, the hope that she will be more than the solitary creature searching in the void; she dreams, however remotely, of making meaning…