Confidentiality Clause, Sample

The undertow of sadness

At that time, cowardice and fear had left me speechless. We had little time (...) did not know what to say. Whatever it was superfluous. What he said was the start of the farewell. Until she said. "I call this the undertow of sadness. I was impressed by without trying to interpret it. And in an act almost convulsive hugged her so hard that our skins are merged and connected terminal pain. I began to feel the anguish of her departure and immobility to the tyranny of fate. It was the punishing God, who gives and who takes away. (...) At that time did not fit more than two choppy breaths, unable to bear the detachment, the disabled to the sadness like a pendulum back and forth to ravage our flimsy humanities. I was reminded of Schopenhauer and felt hopelessly unhappy, irretrievably doomed. Only managed to say: - And happiness, fleeting, as this island is surrounded by an ocean of suffering. If so, I want to stay there with you, although we are shipwrecked and has no reality with which to compare our deep joy. She looked at me (...) to notice a little unfocused, as if trying to go further, he took my face and thanked me. "I, you, now I know what a pendulum and the route from end to end has been the most beautifully wonderful that I could have happened. I do not know if I love this corner of life you I love you, but I can finally make sure that any space behind, hidden somewhere or dimension along the way, living a possibility for the meaning of my life.

(excerpt from the story "pendulum of infinite sadness" of JP Belair)

do not know why I begin an invitation to the launch of a book of poems with an excerpt from a story. Perhaps it is a more clearly what is mine and integrated este libro con mi historia, la real, la imaginaria, la poética, con lo que ha salido por estos dedos torpes para quedarse en un papel de manera perpetua, para toda la vida, más allá de la propia inclusive.

Sin más retórica los quiero invitar a la presentación de mi primer libro de poemas llamado “la resaca de la tristeza” para este domingo 9 de noviembre a las 12:30 en la feria del libro del Centro Cultural Estación Mapocho.

Lleguen con gente, entusiasmo y por sobre todo avidez de poesía emergente. Hagamos un concierto de versos several voices and that, beyond the ears, echoing rumble in the hearts intertwined with daily excitement that any release of this book.

A full house !!!!!!!!!!!! Camilo Mori

Peru

Watch What About Brian

things cuerpo_watanabe Peru Lima

I still have to intervene in this strange body whose function is the poetic delight. Follow this further and convincing eye seeing that the mission is fluidized in foreign words that soak volunteers, eager to become one through the emotion. And there was Watanabe, this time not Cisneros was not Vallejo, Joseph is a poet who shakes the inner body with his verses.

opened the window, sensitive, powerful, that frames the world may seem far as possible. Shivering and felt the body aches. Was the transformation, was out of the shell and exude from one side to another without any time or dimension.

And how far away I saw you. In how far will I have left. And I went back and forth while you only managed to watch the ground. I smile, I sing and fly, and the moment that my body crumbles, is suspended air and is transported around the universe you just open one eye and yawn.

Joseph you share name with Toru Watanabe, the endearing character of Murakami in Tokyo blues, did you shudder to the marrow, it was as if a magic hand is introduced into my mouth surprised even the guts, and give me back to see me on the back.

Animal Winter (José Watanabe)


Again it's time to go to the mountain
to find a cave to hibernate. I will not lie

: the mountain is not mother, caves are like eggs
gaps where
pick my flesh and forgetting. Again
see on the slopes of solid mineral streaks
petrified as nerves, perhaps
in ancient times were traveled by chills
living creature.
Today, after millions of years, the mountain
is timeless and does not know how our life

or how it ends.

There is, beautiful and innocent in the fog, and I come in perfect indifference

ball and delivered me to the idea of \u200b\u200bbeing of another substance.

I came for the umpteenth time to pretend my resurrection.

stone In this world no one is happy with my awakening. I will be myself and I'll play

and if my body is still the soft part of the mountain know

am not yet the mountain.

(for body Stuff , 1999)

The guardian of the ice (José Watanabe)

And the breeze
agree with the ice cream truck and I damaged

running after the birds had fled from the fire
of the harvest.
also agreed the sun.
In this situation how to refuse a favor Level:
the ice cream man asked me take care of their ephemeral ice. Oh

fleeting look under the sun ...

The ice began to melt under my shadow
so desperate
as useless.

diluted slender beings
primary drew only a moment
firmly harping

quartz crystal and then were pure forms as mountain

that devastates the planet.

can not love how fast it leaks. Ama
fast, I said the sun.
And so I learned, in his ardent and evil kingdom,
to comply with life:
I am the keeper of the ice.

The first operation of your insomnia
is a game of time: you checked

and confirm that neither your hands or your feet
have come off like the tails of lizards.
Your whole body is tied into your skin


Eye (José Watanabe)

The other operation of your insomnia
will not be accessed. eye is inside

sailing into your flesh. It is the eye travels

you and see each of your organs
and saved the secret.

The eye is born you
to snoop your slow disaster, nothing else
know you, know whether you live in this city
or another, do not know the paper where you write
for their wickedness
and might not know wickedness. He only knows
your inside.

soon end tonight with its star compassionate
in the window nor

know today if the eye travels through your ends
is the eye of God to see
amazed every organ
tirelessly and still doing his
or indifferent but the meticulous eye of nowhere.

(for body Stuff , 1999)

And speaking of windows, I think of a body that frames a petiolate and unfolds into my world like a sunrise. To listen click here .