Poems

Men
who are not
married
and grow beards
are insecure,
said the CIA
before
it went
to Cuba.

I know
the
belly
of Mexico
must smell
like the trail
of a
wood-burning
bus

Oh Mexico
if all your
sewers
were scents
and your
modern
apartments
lost their cracks
would your women
cease to look
so sad
and your men so silly

Oh Mexico
let your deserts
bloom
and your mustaches
turn to gold

Promise?
1 won’t
make
a
promise

The moment
I make
a promise
I want
to break
it
said
the shell
of the
walnut
to the
spiral
of
the
snail.

TESTAMENTS

I never
scored
said
snake.
It was
Adam
I wanted
but
Eve bought
the cake.

Poems
written by
masochists
flop like cows
in the meadow.
Take pity on me
they cry, pay
attention, I
am so sensitive
to nature and
full of milk

Poems
should be like pins
which prick the skin
of boredom
and leave
a glow
equal in its pride
to the gait
of the sadist
who stuck
the pin
and walked away