Semi-formal Birthday Dinner

Magnifique ... Do they dance tango? Last

(Touch of Ivory Bill Brauer)

Come now, come closer
a moment. I know you can hear me

you can feel the music in the flavor of the night
Did you hear? Indulge
the bandoneon
to feel like they embrace the chords in the melody.
me out to dance, I know you can
I know you want,
that you're dying, leave behind your sorrows

today only you and me
you and me in the smoking room, just you and me

in the twilight of our days.

Come to me with that movement
jaguar in heat
both know that I love,
take my waist and hold me tight officiating
as dialogue between my violin and piano
your rockin 'in my time leaving behind
pain,
to dive into
breaks my leg between yours
when the music starts
describing my ways your bass.

Come here, get drunk at night

as pilgrims
owls in the booming voice of thrushes
mouth breathing in your secret sorrows

to roar tight in this nostalgic baby my drift

love Full Throttle came in a kiss
dance this tango.

Blunt Wraps For Ounces

(Thinking of you, Luis Gerardo Sierra)

Martin Santomé
You do not know how

I now want to have all the time in the world but not wanting
I will convene with me
because even if they were not dying yet

then die
only approach to their sorrow. Martin Santomé

You do not know how much I struggled
to live
how I wanted to live to live
but I must be lazy
instigator of life because I'm dying, Santomé.

You, of course, does not know
because I never even said

on those nights when you discover me with his hands incredulously
free
you do not know how I value
his simple courage to love me. Martin Santomé

You do not know
and I know you do not know
because I saw his eyes
solving the riddle of fear.
not know that is not old

could not be in any case beyond their years
you I am sure to love it. Martin Santomé

You do not know
how well, how nice Avellaneda says
has somehow invented
my name with his love.
You are the answer I expected
to a question I've never made
you are my man and I

I leave you is my man and I
flagging. Martin Santomé

You do not know
at least not this wait
knows how sad is seeing the joy
closed without notice
a brutal slam.


is rare but I feel like I'm going away
you and me we were so close

of me and you.
Perhaps because life is so

to be close and I'm dying
Santomé

you do not know what
dark
how far do quiet. You


Martín Martín ...
how was it?
names
I fall myself I'm falling
you anyway

not know or imagine how lonely

will be my death your


without life.

Dry Dutch Master Cigar

By Laura notion After Drag Queen

("Amapola", Flowergirl, Bas Hoeben)

Al Ultimately this is my place,
I bend in the road, sniffing
my refuge, sought and found
my place of resignations and denunciations, claims
between honey and wet rain
early and late, awaiting word
and evidence
where I have more to write in order to live
or maybe just live keep writing

Al After
is here where I can build my world
with the stones of the verses
floor and lift with the same stone walls
to my song after all this is just
that the site of my tears dark
foam of my laughter, my remote
penalties
where I can speak between lines of delirium delirium

to keep feeling alive
to invent
thousand muses while being my verse.

the end of the day is here
(because it is not elsewhere)
where I can throw the letter of my last pack and hold
crimes chains that bind me where I can to stain free

where I am than where

life I can drink and still be
word where I can go where I can understand
love poem.

Where To Play Apples To Apples Online

(Drag Queen, Maurice Roze)

Nobody ever understood this creature from the dark fable
world disappear as if by day and lit at night bathed of torment, anguish of love dangling his deranged in the melancholy of rum.
Nobody ever understood the gleam of his smile covered nocturnal bird of God, purchased with his brief sentence the abyss of his soul, hiding at night sissy virile charm that is consistent nature of day.
had some pain in his madness each sample, the smile that drew every night with lipstick and tell the world in the guise of Queen dream, all the advantages gained from time to not give them the opportunity to cry, dreaming each step the path of its history of violence and condensed sucked all the sorrows of the world.

was the queen of cabaret, the surviving only in the glare of sequins to the night he saw, and plowing through the smoke and cheap perfume focused his eyes on the look of a man who left her breathless and so for a long time without knowing why, he said that look, the dreamer said, as if he ventured the hypocrisy of his disdain, as if he was not accustomed to the vagaries of the night. And thirsting for love
believed his lips, stroke her smile with his long fingers used to the darkness and the darkness and felt the stale aroma of love long-awaited promise. He

order to port your attic, your poor sucucho stifling hot air of her perfume, clothes picked to dry on the line that ran through the room with the stealth and speed is amazing who intimidated by the misery of his haze, arranged her hair, nails and lips, and lit his eyes of a bitch in heat almost as carefully as he did at night was filled with necklaces and bracelets and sat down to wait in the window, sipping his wine, smiling bet your inner darkness, weaving future, entrenched against fate and staring at the horizon. And while waiting

began writing poetry as an omen to shed and sorcery of its existence, because writing was the only calm the anguish she beat, fighting the hours to avoid defeat in la espera el sueño nunca olvidado por años en su corazón.
Y continuó esperando ya sin saber por qué, aunque las horas pasaron y los días se contaminaron de ansiedad, porque le ilusionaba, porque veía en la espera del amor soñado el palpitante llamado a barrer con la suciedad de tantas noches de amoríos siniestros, de sueños de princesa al fin rescatada de su torre, de su existencia de pobre travesti concebido por las heces de su estirpe.

Nadie entendió nunca a esta criatura de fábula en la penumbra del mundo viviendo en el equívoco la tarde de mil esperas sin recompensa cuando decidió nunca mas volver a maquillarse, porque ya no cabía el color en los tintes desgastados de la mueca his mask and choking pain that will lock the blood.
Nobody ever understood this fabled creature in the shadows of the world until the end of twilight deafening, with patience and soul torn to pieces and holding on to memories as the last offering before rolling to the bottom lit a cigarette and sighed.

Manual For Office G85

When you come to my country

("Desire", Mercedes Vanderdorpe)

Yesterday I spent a
think when you come to my country, run to find you,
through your seas to reach my
port and recognize in your eyes music from your letters that nest in my wreck
will show you my land, my homeland, my kingdom,
and know it's you because you were expecting.

If one day you come take a walk in the green hills
which gifts are filled with rain
alliances and give you the power to run through the fields where the wheat
born by their curled pampas, where
golden thistles sprout'll tell a thousand stories, as we walk barefoot and desgranaré
grapes
give them to you one to one with your head in my arms. We will hear and announce

temples, with bells, their dead
and how pigeons flutter in squares of the center, I will take you from
hand, smiling walk
old cobblestones, and you will see
drawn between the horizon and the sky
our brand new range at dawn on January,
evaporating moisture in the roof of my people.

'll take you to the beach to show my seas
converge around the harbor where seagulls, ships run aground
where the rhythm of the waves at sunset
when the hills are bathed
light and salt will write the verses which gives the ocean.

'll show you how my land tremble when bleed

volcanoes as its roaring spring the verses of poets
I bathe in the vapors of my ancient forests where the eucalyptus
aroman the leaves that are bouncing
'll like my wet earth, the metamorphosis of
fields that are bathed in the legends that the rains are leaving.

Here I receive you in the joy of my land
in the coarseness of her beauty is yours also see
to dance with my dance when I tell my stories
painful strains stained with his blood, hundreds of fields
gold and thousands of willows eternal
of ancestors who dreamed of the freedom of their land
and remote edges of the remnants of a people.

then hug you very strong, peinaré you with my fingers
triumphant dismiss you when you leave again
and watch as you take the heart
Chilean how beautiful is this land
and remember that far back as I write every evening in your town
I'll pay with lyrics on the verses that you have made me and I'll be waiting

for when you come back.