'Call me Aimless', again?

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'SAVE NOW' quoth blogspot...I *should* be trying to learn the ropes around Wordpress...'but I'm So Lazy', to quote Kevin Johansen...(tuesday April 20?)
Had some fairly vivid dreaming this morning I neglected to try to write down, pen to paper...Teresa was in it, maybe i was helping with the setup & strike, if not the whole production, of an art fair, in one of the big patio courtyards in el viejo San Juan-- maybe the Patio de los Dominicos where Instituto de Cultura & its little theatre used to be (?) maybe the bigger Ballajá barracks...
At the end of the evening, very late, Vitin Calderón says he's stuck for a ride, but he hasn't eaten all day & could I please help him find a place for a late night bite...I'm exhausted & want to go home...but hate to leave a buddy in the lurch...what'll I do??

mittwoch 21 aprilllllll...dos de la tarde...intense dream, Tia Piñiña viva, riding to La Guardia--with (uncle) Jose Luis? --from Madrid? ...where I'm leaving some embarrassing unfinished business behind for later? Cecchin in Madrid?? Try to remember...

(...bueno Earth Day jueves 22) --up a bit earlier? noon sharp, even as I didn't get to sleep til five thirty or so-- thought of running then, but...yknow...vivid dreams again, timely, dealing with wine or plane reservations, but faded quck...pick a date to fly back? Wed May 5-- cinco de mayo!? argh...viernes 7?? nuts...email Paco?
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Fourplay To A Crowd

--
MIDNIGHT past the full moon oasis

all freely-willed freewheelin' downhill
from here, there & everywhere

gotta lose this fight with silent pride--
gulp all systems go! Find another tune full?
mister pill, mister pill, mister pill

gonads churning first, drain all
second hope

I lose, I find I question again
until a threshold marks the FOLLOW IN coherence
seeking sleep for new ritual
rebirth in waking (fluff)

Oh, dear. Oh dear ohdearoh dear oh
---

Flujo Roto

--
Dios es implacable como cada uno
de nosotros, su reflejo
hecho añicos: irregulares
miniaturas del orden
oscuro y voraz

quebrado desde Siempre
nos enfrenta el milagro
que destella fugaz eco de luces

Eternidad es refugio perfecto
para nuestra agonía
pero su cuna de disolución
no arrulla ni consuela la despedida
--

I Sing Arms & Demand

       (English variation on 'Ulises, Primer Arma')
--
silence falls far past
the southern lip of exile

cunning void of root & source
gives up no evidence, reflects
or bears no burden
but seedless planting in cultured ferment

--in troubled broken pounding
of the tidal rush
that hoards life-hardened sludge

to prop the selfsame exile up
beyond flight & futile yearning
--

Objective

--
home to fans
turning blasts of air
across the bright empty room

'call me ishmael'-- means old
dry meat gone stale in Cymmerian

bad joke. sorry

see, I'm hangin round
way past my expiration date

I've overstayed my welcome
from day one to be sure

was there a market-defined
shelf-life to my masculinity
-- my bachelorhood?
to my awkward poetics?

failure is letting Christian inflation
bill your dime-store Buddhism
ten bucks for a prayer flag
--

I Know The Distance

--
Love is no euphemism--
will not stand in for more
will not sit down to less

Love is no metaphor--
it will not bring home clarity
to show the way there

I know the distance
between my heart & my skin
I know the calendar
between my cry & my grin

I know the journey
(the gap & the fall)
between my head & my groin

Every nerve is a tightrope
I tremble & dance along
Every vein every artery
the net I fall upon
--

Ulises, Primer Arma

--
cae el silencio al extremo meridional del exilio

(la astucia no refleja un origen:

un cultivo sin semilla, un cuidado cultural

un embate accidentado
de corrientes que acumulan
sedimento de dura experiencia
que sostiene aquel exilio
que no es huída
ni ausencia)
--

Sin Ir, Recuperable

--
No recuerdo sueños
anteriores a la prisa
por encontrar el banquete

Si me incorporo transparente
he aprendido a conservar
mi silueta de lágrima

Perdido el límite y disuelto
el borde, mi encarnado aliento
se desolla y divaga descompuesto

Huésped ingrato del mercado
el canto rodado de mi pesadilla
cobija otra noche su yate varado
--

No es eterna si arde, ni viceversa

-- 
He aprendido hace tiempo ya
que no soy único ni singular--
entonces, ésta mi soledad
¿cómo difiere y de qué manera,
si alguna, sea la que sea--
de tanta soledad ajena?
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