Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Musshie From T Granath

EPISODE ONE DEVASTATING / ARMANDO ARTEAGA



EPISODE ONE DEVASTATING

By Armando Arteaga



This is the old Café Miami

Where I used to make papaya juice.

here talking to you about many things

forgotten.


remember exactly follow a season


finished, diluted, closed, I apologize.

I'm no good at keeping secrets.

Front, is Quilca, the royal road to the Yungas

the piti-piti, or writing


underground
new tenants, Achor, pankekes

new writers, booksellers

rockers and Loker, glued to the asphalt,

the marimba music of graffiti anarkos
Cajamarca
a cane or sweet abancayina,

and a banana bread

green fruit with megaphones invasive:

to sun avocado.

Quilca or natural script of the street.

clockwise:

Park, doves, and a thousand girls

blowflies on the trash, but

what is garbage?:

plastic bottles, beer cans and canned

tuna, dirty

newspapers and wooden boxes for fruit

oxapampinas or rotten food. Here a hungry

has cried his misfortune.

No longer a hungry stomach has returned

in black leather jacket, same kilowatt

for

theatrical representation of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya.

The hunger is a veteran of tedium

And a little nausea shot through the window



aniseed rabbits and get dim sunlight.

's barely 4 and 10 pm, and the sun

not die yet. Conceal your joy, that small

April tornado that is temporary.

Everything is in ruins.

You are a sailor more

in this sea of \u200b\u200buncertainty. You are a wanderer more

in this city. Do not forget that. Vives

just watch this sweet episode

afternoon. All of this is ephemeral. These lucid

because you're young and you have a permanent office

for observation.

're nothing in this corner of Miami.

Look out the window:

time flies, the lame dog in history. Look

afternoon:

Notice the small details of those trembling hands

dirty laundry in the courtyard

Palomeque alley. Alley

single pipe, take a pasteurina. Look

clothes hanging on the line in the yard, an aspirin.

And a black woman sings: Oh

love if you knew that I miss you ... Watch the patio,

nostalgia in his last round,

almost on canvas, look lorna:

how the street is crumbling, the old house

Republican.

No more eternal cities. There is only

dying cities.

disturbs a dark design.







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