I don't believe in the well-fed poet.
I had poetry in my hands.
who knows me
who was my friend
who was my mother and my father and my wife
and my lover and my blue citrus and my dog,
who has taken from my brain some
word caucasian or brunette, he knows that
I
that I always lie
in this I am
Let's say
quite honest: I knew
not so long ago
make poems like who makes the bed
or like someone who sits on the edge of
a sick person and looks at him pious
silent.
Then days happened and the days
grew wings of bats that brought
i get black eggs
unhealthy rushes of winter, then
I went to study law because I thought that
that way I could maybe
right wrongs because the living one does not
he fears neither the dead but the law
the guacha law, because with poetry we can
make mom cry or idiot of the day,
but the poetry
no matter how beautiful it is
does not do justice: does not open the cell to the
innocent and does not push inside the
nefarious.
Time is a blind lizard, but see.
I used to do once in a month some good verse.
Today I console myself with opening a can of pâté
pass the finger
suck it and get out unscathed.
poetry is for fools
for those without brakes for those who really
they have nothing to lose.
I can't honestly take you seriously
to a poet who eats daily
or that he goes shopping
or traveling by car.
The exercise of the poem is a greyhound noise
always running away from the kennel.
I'm sorry. I have civilized myself. I'm sorry readers
mine. I'm sorry. I am a 45 year old teenager,
that you have taken a liking
to loneliness, to the smell of damp books,
to good wine To silence.
Poetry is pure noise. Pure me. fucking ego.
Pay taxes. I have social work.
I can't call myself a poet. in fact it should
respect my name and shut up.
A well-fed poet is an oxymoron
violent.