domenica 24 novembre 2013

¡Sale en diciembre!

martedì 12 novembre 2013

un libro de poemas nuevo
se pueden leer algunos pocos ACÁ

hola qué tal, cómo estás

estoy en buenos aires
hoy es 12 de noviembre de 2013
faltan 33 días para mi cumpleaños

lunedì 21 novembre 2011

Mi playlist

Salió mi ebook de poemas PISTAS por la editorial digital  Determinado rumor

Lo descargás ACÁ y si te gusta, donás unas monedas pa el editor 
y los autores. 

Gracias por leer(me) Contame qué te pareció

giovedì 6 ottobre 2011

22 Pi: La belleza, la gracia

La obra de arte es uin medio que comunica belleza en el acto mismo de la expresión// Tu arte no está en el contenido sino en la forma; no es lo que intentas comunicar sino cómo lo haces

lunedì 26 settembre 2011


esta poematización, acto de dar matiz para graduar delicadamente pero también por el estatuto dado de poético a lo que de ahora en más lo será

para matizar opuestos hacer polo único o pura gradación: horrendar calmar irritar

venerdì 2 settembre 2011

mañana a la tarde es sábado a la tarde

los espero

lunedì 22 agosto 2011

questa notte

voy a estar en el programa de radio "Sirenas en bicicleta": vamos a escuchar música, voy a leer poemas de plutón canta y a hablar de PLUP

a las 21hs

en Radio Colmena

giovedì 4 agosto 2011

East Coker


In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.
Houses live and die: there is a time for building
And a time for living and for generation
And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane
And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.

In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls
Across the open field, leaving the deep lane
Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon,
Where you lean against a bank while a van passes,
And the deep lane insists on the direction
Into the village, in the electric heat
Hypnotised. In a warm haze the sultry light
Is absorbed, not refracted, by grey stone.
The dahlias sleep in the empty silence.
Wait for the early owl.

In that open field
If you do not come too close, if you do not come too close,
On a summer midnight, you can hear the music
Of the weak pipe and the little drum
And see them dancing around the bonfire
The association of man and woman
In daunsinge, signifying matrimonie—
A dignified and commodiois sacrament.
Two and two, necessarye coniunction,
Holding eche other by the hand or the arm
Whiche betokeneth concorde. Round and round the fire
Leaping through the flames, or joined in circles,
Rustically solemn or in rustic laughter
Lifting heavy feet in clumsy shoes,
Earth feet, loam feet, lifted in country mirth
Mirth of those long since under earth
Nourishing the corn. Keeping time,
Keeping the rhythm in their dancing
As in their living in the living seasons
The time of the seasons and the constellations
The time of milking and the time of harvest
The time of the coupling of man and woman
And that of beasts. Feet rising and falling.
Eating and drinking. Dung and death.

Dawn points, and another day
Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind
Wrinkles and slides. I am here
Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

mercoledì 27 luglio 2011


giovedì 30 giugno 2011

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