Me fuí con la culpa como grillete

el pesar en la parada de bus

sin saber fecha de retorno

sin saberlo agridulce después

no sé en que momento dejaste de contar

las historias de siempre,

de Petra y Juana

y Don Xenón

desde cuándo ya no te gustan los gatos?

ahora hablas otro idioma

y juegas en silencio

no se que tonterías decirte

ni que nombres mencionar

no te recuerdas en Cubiro

ni la niebla y el ron

Ahora admiran tus sueños

los libros secos en la madera

solo dices que soy buena y

no he cambiado

Desde cuándo no te reconozco

o en que parte de la memoria

nos reencontramos?

Taro Poetry: King of Cups

Were you willing

to sail you own storm


To the root of wrongdoing

A barefoot touch


The sun wanders in the blue

So powerful

So soothingly

You sing against the noise

and the heart dances along

A mere oddity in the wholeness

After all

I wasn’t there

the blank pages said it all

the heart in red

A tear on hold

I wasn’t ever there

A picture of thousand words

The cards were not enough

there wasn’t any thought

I wasn’t even there

My name on his book

A holiday reminder

An unseen love


After all

The gift

Now I know

If I ever knew

the journey of Buda

the precious gift of being

in the wonder and horror

of the threshold

being the witness of

light and darkness

the despair and the verge

of a physical farewell

being non-dual

not in a place, not in the so-called time

We have a notion and that’s nothing

Our souls are mere specks in space

with open arms to the Source


we’re not humble

we’re drowned in the forged greatness

and supremacy

but now I’m aware

I’m another dot that shapes the hollowness



My dearest starchild

Don’t look at my teary eyes

Stay just stay

Inside my burning chest


In your cosmic cradle

Don’t feel me in this dreary site

Smile just smile

At the pink moonlight

Dream of the odds

Dance among sparks

But please don’t look at my heart


In your singular world

Ride just ride

Across the far-flung space

But don’t look back

At my earthy self

Let me be the humble lighthouse

in awe of your trascendence

Blurred words

​Blurred words

Blown away

Could have written an indigo poem, but

Forgotten at dawn

Like a Polaroid

In tears, though

Was it my fear

Pictured in a wall?

Where are my headphones?

There is no tone, nor sighs

Where is my head?

There is nowhere

Me, there

All there is

That strange state

An unsent letter

A rough pass

To the gate of madness

A misty glass

Cloaked in uneasiness

I’m always imagining

A beloved soul

A whimsical song 

And drifting in

The ocean at dawn

That strange state

Of longing the unknown

A mystical path

To the gate of inner love