mundos nuevos

qué lindo

the question remains the same

ser o no ser

careta

chicks on comic

ocuparse de los pies

tal vez todas las horas sean la hora zeta
pasa que a veces uno no se da cuenta
no es por alguien, no, que empiezan las re y capitulaciones
es por todos
por las veces que uno hubiera querido ser espejo u ojo de los otros
-si hubiera sido manos, nos habrían acariciado mejor-,
hubiera querido ser lobo para que mamá no me encajara cofia,
frasco de compotas y este susto que conservo todavía frente a madres, habitantes de los bosques y disfraces en general
hubiera querido sobre todo una madrugada romana de abril ser vos
para que me retuvieras
o en cualquier tiempo ser un pelo del anular derecho
porque es un buen puesto de observación y se puede pasar inadvertido
hubiera querido la barrabasada de ser dios para atender mi propia oficina de colocaciones y pedidos
doblar entonces ahora mismo por florida hacia paraguay
a la deriva de los encuentros precisos y porteños
cuando todavía creía/mos en la fábula de la creación, por ejemplo;
baires no era objeto de titulares en las necrológicas del
mundo y se podía compartir el abrigo de rostros y reparos conocidos

quién me ha catapultado tan certeramente en este punto final de lejanía

-recuerdo que alguna vez borges me dijo inventando o
traduciendo a un anglosajón delirante como caballo sin pasto, o
borges equivocándose de diccionario, que a quien dios
bien quiere lo envía a tierras lejanas; pero después, lo hará volver?,
le preguntaría hoy, antes de que se me muriera o se le olvidaran página y respuesta-

la noche me cae encima a picos húmedos y tristes
prolija limo las aristas
para que no me hagan mucho daño estos hombres extraños
silenciosos o pequeños
a quienes no me preocupo por amar ni menos detestar
les palmeo el hocico como a un animal ajeno
del que no se espera la retribución de la caricia
y el vacío es tal que si lanzo una piedra, digo, yo misma
estoy segura de no oírme siquiera tocar fondo

sola y perdida en medio de interrogantes crepusculares, tifones y cerezos
sin nadie, vos, que me bese y diga buenos días
y sin embargo, ahora que la cultura de la vida me ha enseñado
el muestrario más amplio de suicidios y suicidas
no me decido por ninguno

a sabiendas que no puedo remontar el arcoiris
que carezco de un remoto mapa del tesoro
para que al menos los descubridores se lleven el gran chasco
y sólo tengo un saco de papeles viejos que no sirven para nada
aquí, lejos de la ciudad que guarda mis humores de vivir
el signo de infinito me crece sin conventos de posesas en ludún
si supieras/ que de día me anochece
que flaqueo
que después de dedicarte este velorio del solo
me dispongo, Juan, como algunos
simplemente a persistir

Tokio hora zeta, Luisa Futoransky

think twice

Go ahead: say what you're thinking. The garden

is not the real world. Machines

are the real world. Say frankly what any fool

could read in your face: it makes sense

to avoid us, to resist

nostalgia. It is

not modern enough, the sound the wind makes

stirring a meadow of daisies: the mind

cannot shine following it. And the mind wants to shine, plainly, as

machines shine, and not

grow deep as, for example, roots. It is very touching,

all the same, to see you cautiously

approaching the meadow's border in early morning,

when no one could possibly

be watching you. The longer you stand at the edge,

the more nervous you seem. No one wants to hear

impressions of the natural world: you will be

laughed at again; scorn will be piled on you.

As for what you're actually

hearing this morning: think twice

before you tell anyone what was said in this field

and by whom.

daisies, louise glück

Looking for a Source of Diversion

A dentist in London laid it on George, me and wives, without telling us, at a dinner party at his house. He was a friend of George's and our dentist at the time, and he just put it in our coffee or something. He didn't know what it was; it's all the same thing with that sort of middle-class London swinger, or whatever. They had all heard about it, and they didn't know it was different from pot or pills, and they gave us it. He said, 'I advise you not to leave,' and we thought he was trying to keep us for an orgy in his house, and we didn't want to know, and we went to Ad Lib and these discotheques, and there were these incredible things going on.
It was insane, going around London. When we went to the club we thought it was on fire, (...). We thought, 'Shit, what's going on here?' We were cackling in the streets, and people were shouting, 'Let's break a window,' you know; it was just insane. We were just out of our heads. When we finally got on the lift, we all thought it was on fire, but there was just a little red light. We were all screaming like that, and we were all hot and hysterical, (...).
God, it was just terrifying, but it was fantastic. I did some drawings at the time, I've got them somewhere, of four faces saying, 'We agree with you!' (...). And then George's house seemed to be just like a big submarine. I was driving it, they all went to bed, I was carrying on in it, it seemed to float above his wall which was eighteen foot, and I was driving it.
(...) The second time we had it was in LA. We were on tour in one of those houses, Doris Day's house or wherever it was we used to stay, and the three of us took it, Ringo, George and I. (...).
Peter Fonda came, and that was another thing. He kept saying [in a whisper], 'I know what it's like to be dead,' and we said, 'What?' and he kept saying it. We were saying, 'For Christ's sake, shut up, we don't want to know,' and he kept going on about it (...).



John Lennon interviewed by Jann S. Wanner for Rolling Stone Magazine, January 21, 1971.

this is major tom to ground control

ésta es de cuando estuvimos en otro planeta

thanks, but no, thanks

Unthanksgiving Day in Alcatraz and the West Coast 2009
Alcatraz is not an Island

National Day of Mourning en Massachusetts  2009
1970: First one to be celebrated

rindiéndole cuentas a quién

con tus dólares me voy a ver a devendra y quedo como estos chicos, and there's nothing you can do about it... je, je, je.

pictures of you

de las chicas, yo soy la de la izquierda.
de los chicos, vos el de la derecha.
estamos caminando por la playa
de noche. vos adelante, en silencio,
yo atrás, cada uno por su lado.
yo pensaba: ¿no te das cuenta de que
te quiero, que quiero quedarme con vos?
entonces te diste vuelta, viniste
y sin decirnos nada, nos besamos,
en esa playa húmeda y eterna.