El Tao

"Si es tan simple como el encuentro entre el hombre y la mujer, ¿por qué resulta tan difícil? ¡De nada vale luchar, anhelar y buscar, intrigar y discutir, insistir y suplicar! Después de tantas vueltas, algo se interpone y lo simple se hace complejo. Encontrar es reconocer, no hacer. Es mejor olvidarse de anhelar y desear y esperar, aun la soledad, porque estos sentimientos enlodan el agua de la mente"

tan desmemoriada que olvidé que no tengo memoria...

en días de lluvia, cuando sentía el peso terrible, la bruma en la voluntad, la ceguera en los pies, los aullidos de la enseñanza, el desencaje de la fantasía
(no hay elefantes morados):

en esos días planchabas mi uniforme, no hasta dejarlo sin arrugas, sino hasta que fuera lo suficientemente abrigado, para que me acompañen tus caricias en la tela.  Planchabas mis medias de lana, hasta que fueran lo suficientemente alas -ligeras, calientes, livianas-. 

Llegaba abrazada a la escuela a ordenar la cajita de colores (por afinidades 'tonos de familia'), a dejar que la mano juegue a la caligrafía.

Había días de lluvia en los que sabía de tu regazo.

when the world falls appart...

too much too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody.

laughter or
tears

haters
lovers

strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks

armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.

an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners

it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.

people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.

I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be.

but sometimes I think about
it.

the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.

too much
too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody

more haters than lovers.

people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.

meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.

there must be a way.

surely there must be a way that we have not yet
thought of.

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.

it will not say
"no."


the crunch

c. bUKOWSKI