Todo en los tiempos correctos

Siento tener que decir que todo será a su tiempo... No puedo corresponder a una petición sólo porque se me formula, sólo porque te ayudará a clarificarte. Tampoco puedo forzarme a lo que no siento, that is the one that is dead in me... Todo a su tiempo, todo cuando sea propicio, todo claro, las cartas sobre la mesa, no hidden agendas, no third party casualties in sight, no expectations, no projections, sólo hic et nunc... and damn is it hard to find that!!!

silent unknown office

Sentado en una oficina desconocida esperando ser util en algo... Silencio a medida que todos se van y echo de menos el reloj de péndulo de la niñez en la casa de mis abuelos... el cucu despertaba a las viejas roncando en el comedor sobre sus platos de sopa... Es verdad que el tic tac sobre un fondo de silencio empuja el corazón hacia abajo, hasta que quema, pero es mejor que este paso insensible del tiempo entre cubículos sintéticos homogeneos, cuadrados, planos, funcionales....

El culo se me duerme de tanto estar sentado y quiero puro echarme al broiler

Saludos mandan

The anasasi, the Roanoke Colonists, the Wendigo and Big Foot, some escapees from Area 51, Quetzalcoatl (que nunca volvió -Cortes era un imitador), Lieutenant Bello, the Milodón, but no signs of Elvis ... Not even Croatan holds any guess to his whereabouts ... Hendrix came but then left - the last thing we knew is he hired his skeleton for a Devo video, the inmortals all died before they got here ... Well, there's too many to mention,

Kisses

POSTCARD: DOS FROM CROATAN

Dear Ego.

Dancing in my grave: tira challas y serpentinas sobre la tumba ... si eres tan buena, t/b unas velitas no me vendrían mal
... Se me olvidaba, un botellón de colonia (bien fuerte, para disimular el aroma característico de alguien en mi estado), aguja (no encuentro especificaciones técnicas - la más gruesa y filuda que encuentres) e hilo de nylon bien resistente, por si se me desprende un brazo o una oreja caminando por ahi.

desde croatan

DOS - El ocsiso

As I await the dormant signs

Eyes of all shapes flutter around me blooming like flowers. Spring is green, red, white, yellow, blue, violet... Something is going to happen and this certitude is whispered into my ears by trees rocking in the breeze at 3pm in a lonesome street. Again I tire at waiting for it to speak and again it uplifts me. The garden smells of life reborn while we talk over tea in the morning, couples kiss everywhere, white cotton floats around, girls are pretty in their tiny tight summer clothes and churchbells chime reminding me that christians got it all wrong yet christ still can be found and there is a path laid for those who discover "ears to see and eyes to listen". Definitely one chapter has closed and another is opening and places and people change their meaning as they recurr in this other turn of the wheel. "A Love Supreme" ecos in a hotel bathroom while I sit in the toilet -the unlikeliness of this seems to makes sense to me??? ... Thus a whole new set of signs is unfolding and I prepare to roll them out, yet the method is still freejazz and the crafter is still the same and the same is still my predicament: what is the question I must ask? Just caution about losing track and getting lost as I release myself... always in control.... I can go with the flow.

Ciertas Jerarquias.

Secrecy is a hiddeous gossiper and eventually gives away those of us seeking sanctuary in her bossom while adding the last few touches to her piece of knitting - and to our embarrasment - over tea and biscuits with the other old farts in town. We may well deceive ourselves again and again by success innumerable and thus give into her charms again and again but eventually, she spills the beans over supper and at much length and much sorrow -and many years as is the case of some clay figurines, we learn... :

Lumen nihil celatum admittit quia lumen supra tenebras imperat.

Maybe the audience can dispute this claim in the big picture of things, but never in the end double account entry book of our deeds and life - After all it was with this invention of Italian accountants that Al Capone was finally brought to his knees and to the slammer and this irony is not without reason.