sábado

Sleep-walking

A Chavi Ludlow (mamút)


When I’m walking fast-foot as I go, faster than anyone can go, I know deep down I’m being released from something unshown.
Crossing the empty park, now that the daily lights have faded, the street lamps are unnoticed; my eyes just follow the wet, scratched pavement.
Fretless, my safety is the unstoppable fastness of these feet; the night, unguarded of such steps won’t reach, anyway, my bed, my house, my late night labour or insomniac vices.
Here, as I walk cheating the expanding darkness, crossing, still, this park; my blurry mind goes from politics, to poem, to job, to worthless, to love (sometimes), to tennis shoes, to dog’s poop.
Yet I know the street’ll come triggering one of those unfortunate moments of worldly awareness.

dìa

El sol despierta a cualquiera -
a mì, por ejemplo -
Lo de diario pide atenciòn en silencio,
en el suelo, en los trastos, colitas de cigarro.
Sobre la marcha el sol
se refleja en las nucas
hasta que acaba la faena.
En el letargo, ya el sillòn se
ajusta a mis costillas,
la tarde muere en mis ventanas.