We’re sitting at a gas station outside of Salta: 24 de marzo de 2015
Now we’re sitting at a gas station outside of Salta in the unnatural glare of white light that floods the area where cars pump gas. Tanks are refilled with that toxic liquid fueling the metal mechanism our wild intelligence created.…
Hoy es en español: 12 de febrero de 2015
Hoy es viento y un cielo sin nubes, un vestido de colores, intentando de pensar en español, de encontrar la motivación de hablar en español, escribir en español. Necesito analizar mis pensamientos en español, y ahora me doy cuenta que…
We have to get a little bit crazy: 04 de febrero de 2015
We have to get a little bit crazy. It’s the only way to get into each other’s heads. ¿Estoy alucinando? Sí, sí. Sólo quiero estar tan volada hasta el punto de alucinación. Y hablar con otras personas que son tan…
Choripan night: 11 de enero de 2015
Last night was choripan night in the hostel, and I worked from 4pm to midnight, my first day shift. Well, “day” meaning not after midnight, when I usually work. It was fun to talk to all the people, sell alcohol,…
Wear your body loosely and move comfortably: 28 de octubre de 2013
Knowledge as attractive, feeling like I’m not learning and progressing and becoming more self-aware. Get a mentor, wear your body loosely and move comfortably, slouchy, act as if your body is such an un-burden that you don’t even notice it,…
a couple poems: 04, 15 de septiembre de 2013
☯️04 de septiembre de 2013 10 AM, a small dose of comatose makes a shiver erupt from this medium frame. Although autumn hasn’t dripped off the trees in blood-red orange and shades of bananas in varying stages of fruition, I…
So here I am in the light of the terraza: 18 de febrero de 2014
So here I am in the light of the terraza, shaded by his sombra, craving words like a sexual compulsion, but this time in Spanish. It’s like my brain’s foreplay tryst with “herramientas,” a simple word made into a throaty…
Pigeons swim in trash piles in Montevideo: 10 de enero de 2014
A man walking down the street carries a birdcage with a green parrot inside. Pigeons swim in trash piles. I step outside, turn to close the door, and they hop and chirrup. Dirty papers rustle in the wind. Here there…
My pupils must be vibrating: 03 de enero de 2014
I can’t stop laughing, it’s like I literally don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know how long is appropriate to look at someone. I’m so jittery my whole chest and shoulders feel like white light is bursting in tiny…
Fire: 22 de julio de 2015
Fire licks, slurps, and crackles happily, depending on the type of wood. I want a bonfire to swallow my night whole, stars and moon and wine and words. I think of Sam McGee. I think of his mystery bestowed upon…