It’s February, it’s a beautiful sunshine morning and I wake up thinking, craving, a little green, of nature. Living in Lavapiés is great. But I miss trees, green grass, clean air and nature.

I have only three hours, so I discard the idea of escaping to the mountain: you have to find another solution to tread earth, feel the touch of the tree trunk.

Perhaps the Retiro, too “domesticated”, perhapsCasa de Campo , too winter…

And suddenly I remember that in the midst of high buildings, in the heart of the city of Madrid, there is an oasis: the Quinta de los Molinos Park, is also now an oasis in bloom. It is mid-February, almond trees will be beginning to blossom…

In just half an hour, in Metro, Suances stop, we are Blue and I scamper between the aroma of the millions of almond blossoms, surrounded by the songs of birds that seem to sing to this early spring, the thousands of insects that flutter among the flowers, the Bumblebees pollinating the trees. Life, with capital letters.

If you want to know more about this park, its origins, flora and its walks look here parque Quinta de los Molinos,

Get there

In just half an hour’s journey in Metro, Suances stop, we are Blue and I scamper between the aroma of the millions of almond blossoms, surrounded by the songs of birds that seem to sing to this early spring, the thousands of insects that flutter among the flowers, the Bumblebees pollinating the trees. Life, with capital letters.

If you want to know more about this park, its origins, flora and its walks look here parque Quinta de los Molinos,

 

Almond Perfume

While Blue, my yorkie and squire, scamper behind the daring Magpies (who do not have any fear, because they fly and he does not), I close my eyes and let my nose guide me. I get carried away by the scent of the thousands of flowers that impregnate the air with that fresh perfume of almond blossom.

In my head, I begin to build a poem:

I write white verses like silver on

Like the bustle glutton of a bumblebee

In the still tender flowers of the almond tree

Contrasts that touch you

The trunk of the almond tree has a dark, almost black tone, like a piece of burnt wood that does not shelter life, but when February comes and covering itself with flowers becomes the perfect example of the Yin and Yan, the two opposite faces, but complementary, of existence: they are the shadow and the light, the cold the heat, the movement and the stillness.

 

 

Today I was accompanied by the verses of Batania/Neorrabioso

I love this man, for his sensibility, for his way of teaching us his world, ours, from another perspective.

There is nothing more to be added, than to defend the poems alone.

If you want to read him, look here, these are his blogs:

Batania

Neorrabioso

In his own words: When I started in poetry I was made the same criticism from many angles: my poems, they said, were so violent that they were not understood in a democracy. “You write too rabid,” they pointed out, and I added the Neo -more by self-parody than by aggressive intent.

The satiated

They don’t spit worms at ties.
They don’t attack the pure strands of silence.
They don’t launch releases on the funerals
They don’t hesitate or erase the news.
They don’t risk their nobody in the dungeons.
They don’t stain shop windows or the methacrylate.
They don’t jump the police fences.
They don’t shout slogans against the seats.
They don’t infringe the laws of strychnine.
They don’t cut the streets nor invade the squares
They don’t burn flags they don’t write pamphlets
They don’t demand justice don’t run don’t escape
They don’t suffer don’t insist don’t cry don’t fight.

They don’t.

 

THE MEANINGS

Only with you did I understand
The bone of philosophy
(your clitoris always wet)
The knot of concepts
(Your approaching body)
The cavern of meanings
(Your lips sweeping mine)

I love you

How hard it is to say iloveyou again
After launching iloveyou to other women
That they left like smoke carnation’s or ships in flames,
Women who now neither know nor remind me
Or remind me as a black iron
Burning on the tip of his heart,
And besides, believe me,
It’s not the same to say iloveyou at twenty
That now at forty four years,
Already covered my dirty water pond,
And I know I’m going to laugh by saying it
And you’re going to laugh too…

But what’s the difference?
I’ll say it again by squeezing a stone
And trembling in front of your wolf’s eyes.
I’ll repeat what the wind tells me
When the red of the sky is as red as seeing you.
When your voice rises in the air
And falter the hinges of the gates, I will say I love you.
I’ll say I love you here and in Athens, I love you
In London and in Acapulco, I love you
To the future and to the past,
In the ascent and in the fall,
Like a submarine I love you,
When you are a ship I will continue loving you
And when you are shipwreck I will throw you
My fifteen and five hundred hands.

I love you and no matter what December,
I love you and what a beetle in your eyes,
I love you and what a good night does
To read verses and open zippers.

TWO CRAZY

How it was going to last the love between two crackpots with flute
That boasted to get wet with a fire hose,
So goobers that they were losing acorns down the street
And they became preceptors in powder-strewn fields,

How it would last the love between the mirror and the mirrors,
Between the rebel alwaysego and the alwaysego breakdowns,
Between ensign mollusc of hand pumps
And the happy reader of the poison handbook,

How it would last
If they both wanted to be capital-leters
If they both wanted to be big-thumbs
If both of us preferred play to be God between clouds
To put his love in curfew,
If you never saw mice or mouse
With such smoky eagles, how
You were going to last!!!

NON HUMAN

Of many errors I am responsible,
But I’ve never tried to be a man.

I have no children. I have no property.
I don’t belong to anything.
I have not signed contracts
That would limit my freedom
Nobody’s.

I’ve always felt strange between them.
They’re going to vote, I don’t vote.
Go on vacation, I’ll stay.
They relate and have friends, I don’t have.
Their mother dies and they cry, I don’t cry.
They square before their flag, I don’t picture.
They get excited about their anthem, I’m not thrilled.
As much as I search,
I find no proof
To link me to that species.

I don’t even know them.
A hit of “click” I see documentaries about them
And I observe that they are creatures born to flock.
The females look a little cleaner, that’s all.

I’m responsible for some failures, yes.
of some weaknesses and falls.
of many errata in my writing.

But I’ve never tried to be a man.

The hardest part… Translating these verses into English (Ozú)

!Si, quiero la Guía!

Responsable Marisol Torres.

Aquí nuestra Política de Privacidad.

 

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Responsable Marisol Torres.

Aquí nuestra Política de Privacidad.