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Guess you better step, the dry leaves rustling
between glances sideways
downplayed them,
to bed when they are lost, caught
hand our complicity.


guess.
That night the reality of our silence, morning sleep
is our memories,
to leave the door ajar to make
ghosts creep, no letter of access.

guess:
because I remember sitting today, forget the black
with an alarm clock, I do not care
the gasps of the moons
and yes the sweet clarity of our routines
carefree.

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guess



Juan Carlos Aragón writes about the conflict Alakrana. Who are the real pirates.

POINT: Four
Somalia pirates have hijacked a tuna, although carries
ikurriña, apparently is English.
And they say the pirates want money,
that if they give it, kill sailors.
And to not be killed,
to see who pays a ransom to a kidnapper.
Comrade
pattern is mobilizing all its people, and is demanding
shouted at President
to fix as the situation.
And the President says:
"I understand your discomfort, but not believe the government is going to stay that way.
is a complicated and difficult negotiation.
But quiet lady, this is a story with a happy ending
already have enough with the crisis.
At first, it sounds like nonsense ransom of sailors.
But those inside the boat are the Basque Country,
and that is more serious.
And that there are quantitative Tuti
and if not are dropped, fast kill, suddenly arrives
government,
loose money and rescue.
And me, I have my job and take off your home in danger,
me who I
A pound ... pound me who I tó'estos pirates.

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Reconciled


Back to tremble Haiti, that are landing bread machine guns and a knife in his teeth. Be careful what you do "to preserve peace."

http://tercerainformacion.es/spip.php?article12359 Http://www.diagonalperiodico.net/Haiti-el-precio-de-la-libertad.html

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trembles. A decade ahead

I like to see how it changes path, tracing the words that say nothing. As they are equipped with a touch of magic, of meaning.
When you really are made for me, for my self, for my escape. "You come and you want to make your own, fools? The world is subjective, you never will. You can not possibly make sense of the words that say nothing. Because they are created for it, so that no one listens.


Reconciled with Cordoba, reconciled with myself.

"Damn have strange way of disappearing, you damn strange way of losing. Damn strange shape rolling your life on paper, then taking you fire ... "