moral marcelo
(Havana, 1977)
of reflection
States are organizations animals, herds marking territories, the social behavior of man is the flocks, coherence between force and imposition, yesterday, I heard a program more stars that all grains of sand on every beach, someone who calculates universe.
Where the universe is just nothing here that is no matter.
matter, we can test develop a conscience.
UNEAC
Case Pavón, imperialism, and Cuba. Fear the wolf gathers the sheep,
the guide dog. Talking to abolish censorship, to cope.
abolish censorship, but without freedom of press. Democracy
with a single party.
● ● ●
A mathematician friend told me that all years have at least one day lost. Seconds setting, eternity will have their ages. I wonder if we lost something,
wonder. The day that you expect and sirens rang out.
The fence kept ringing, followed by opening and closing, I still feel that pain.
The reality of my brain. The straightness of the time does not permit me to return.
When I talk about God, people can believe or not believe, but do not know. An outburst is life, a fit nowhere. Sadness of not seeing, not knowing,
Sadness.
● ● ●
A true writer knows his power. No one cares about the inner victory, another evolution of his spirit. The true writer will always have its enemies. Unfortunately, in life, for people, the ideas that make things more real than things. truths are clear, a once seen, not flee from the definition. The depth does not tend to be complex.
● ● ●
was on the Paseo del Prado, a festival of poetry,
drier than a brick in the summer, remember that poem of Bukosky.
Before I woke up, had seen the sea crashing against the wall.
A cup of coffee, was on the Paseo del Prado, a festival of poetry,
my friends had left all of the island at the tip of the lions,
and those guys came back to talk about poetry,
my friends had left all of the island, my love.
Send prick, I said,
sadness I had a bigger than a fly.
Although I have seen a white cat moving among the puddles.
gray stone wall was cold, it was dark and musty and was cold.
Outside the others spoke of how the content.
white cat, white cat.
Although I have seen a white cat moving among the puddles.
● ● ●
matter (fragments
When I see the dust on my Fourth Fleet, I think of the sentence, I plunge my face into it.
● ● ●
rotten wood of the table is rolled between my fingers.
At the time, the dish, fish bones,
two heads that look. My brain looks to the future. The empty corridor.
● ● ●
Drunk on my house, ice pops, being alive is a problem, I thought,
that each resolved as possible. Shit, toilet leak, a space of seconds,
thought something had closed his eyes. Ojala
got the love, hope to open.
I can not return to the space occupied by our bodies in time.
can not get back to you, love is a ghost,
beings, the poor creatures were not born for nothing.
● ● ●
The building of a friend dropped a corpse, I will not to think more about death, not I'll write more about death, I remembered a block ahead, his head moved from side to side, was covered, as if we were living shame, death is soft told me, the head moved from one place to another.
● ● ●
When that was about 23 years, I paid a study on Calle San Lazaro, was a narrow staircase, I sat down to write, I wanted that was my life. In the upstairs living a homosexual who was ill, the vent was so wide that sometimes you hear mourn. Put a very loud music, crossed it on the stairs, long corridors the other side was the sea. One night, while working, he entered an ugly butterfly and was still on the wall when it fell to the floor, I took my fingers gently
more I wanted to see the design of their wings, I could not open, people come and go constantly without much espaviento life, I thought, days after returned to see the man on the stairs, looked at me without greeting, the hall was dark, with the keys in my hands I could hardly see the lock.
(Havana, 1977)
of reflection
States are organizations animals, herds marking territories, the social behavior of man is the flocks, coherence between force and imposition, yesterday, in a program heard more stars that all grains of sand on every beach, someone who calculates universe.
Where the universe is just nothing here that is no matter.
matter, we can test develop a conscience.
UNEAC
Pavón, imperialism, and Cuba. Fear the wolf gathers the sheep,
the guide dog. Talking to abolish censorship, to cope.
abolish censorship, but without freedom of press. Democracy
with a single party.
● ● ●
A Mathematical friend told me that all years have at least one day lost. Seconds setting, eternity will have their ages. I wonder if we lost something,
wonder. The day that you expect and sirens rang out.
The fence kept ringing, followed by opening and closing, I still feel that pain.
The reality of my brain. The straightness of the time I am not allowed to return.
When I talk about God, people can believe or not believe, but do not know. An outburst is life, a fit nowhere. Sadness of not seeing, not knowing,
Sadness.
● ● ●
A true writer knows his power. No one cares about the inner victory, another evolution of his spirit. The true writer will always have its enemies. Unfortunately, in life, for people, the ideas that make things more real than things. truths are clear, once seen, not flee from the definition. The depth does not tend to be complex.
● ● ●
was on the Paseo del Prado, a festival of poetry,
drier than a brick in the summer, remember that poem of Bukosky.
Before I woke up, had seen the sea crashing against the wall.
A cup of coffee, was on the Paseo del Prado, a festival of poetry,
my friends had left all of the island at the tip lions
and those guys came back to talk about poetry,
my friends had left all of the island, my love.
Send prick, I said,
sadness I had a bigger than a fly.
Although I have seen a white cat moving among the puddles.
La piedra del muro gris estaba fría, estaba negra y mohosa y estaba fría.
Afuera los demás hablaban de la forma, el contenido.
Gato blanco, gato blanco.
Aunque creo haber visto un gato blanco moverse entre los charcos.
●●●
matter (fragments
When I see the dust floating in my room, I think of the sentence , I plunge my face into it.
● ● ●
rotten wood of the table is rolled between my fingers.
At the time, the dish, fish bones,
two heads that look. My brain looks to the future. The empty corridor.
● ● ●
Drunk on my house, ice pops, being alive is a problem, I thought,
resolves that each can. Shit, toilet leak, a space of seconds,
thought something had closed his eyes. Ojala
got the love, hope to open.
I can not return to the space occupied by our bodies in time.
can not get back to you, love is a ghost,
beings, the poor creatures were not born for nothing.
● ● ●
The building of a friend dropped a corpse, I will not to think more about death, I will not write more than death, a block later recalled, the head moved from side to side, was covered, as if we were living shame, death is soft told me, the head moved from one place to another.
● ● ●
When that was about 23 years, I paid a study on Calle San Lazaro, was a narrow staircase, I sat down to write, I wanted that to be my life. In the upstairs living a homosexual who was ill, the vent was so wide that sometimes you hear mourn. Put a very loud music, crossed it on the stairs, long corridors the other side was the sea. One night, while working, he entered an ugly butterfly and was still on the wall when it fell to the floor, I took my fingers gently
more I wanted to see the design of its wings, it was not able to open, people come and go constantly without much espaviento life, I thought, days later I see the man on the stairs, looked at me without greeting, the hall was dark with the keys in my hands I could hardly see the lock.
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