Monday 23 January 2012
Bite, bite slow, bite hard, bite once and once more. Food comes slowly-slimy. The burnt meat crumbs laced with reddish sauce and yellow-phlegmed noodles. Bite, we’ll never surrender. She swallows her pills and high as a kite wants to feed us. I’ll bite her finger to the bone. Behind the cupboard rests her stash of bottles. In the afternoon she shouts about the whores of the Universe. Her world drown in fucking-machines. Under her pillow the kitchen knife guards against them. We lock our doors and pray for fire
Monday 16 January 2012
Monday 9 January 2012
Adorned with his jewels, I walk down the stairs. I am his whore, his universal whore.
A ring in each finger,
a pair of earrings,
Swiss broderie covers my skin. The dinner begans. We eat and talk. Afterwards, the men go with the men, the women with the women. They know who I am and do not dare to cross me. They laugh, they shriek and cast their nets asking belated favours for their sons and husbands.
Monday 2 January 2012
unanswerable, uncomfortable, wounding
(A window to another world, built landscapes
(What contains home): pipes, food
(memories, sadness, death, family, object, stairs, sloth)
slivers of time washing the shore
Multiple films, short stories. The sum of all of them is the whole story: Parks, Windows, Doors, Stairs, Columns, Gates, Leaves. Trees, Walks
fallow torrents of breath
long home: the grave (My spirit is broken, my days are extinct, the grave is ready)
at home: to the innermost or final position.
home: the inner table in backgammon
an institution affording refuge, asylum, or residence for strangers, the afflicted, poor, etc. bailiwick
Ministerio del Interior = Homeland Security