Night Train

This train rode only at night
It had no windows and it had no doors
No other load than the dreams of passengers
it never carried in it’s darkened hull
Its cargo laden with the absent bodies
of the travellers it never held.

This train bore no speed and no direction
conveyed no desire but that of indifference
This train was hitched to nothing but itself
and carried onward through night’s thick shadows
for no more reason than the rails were there
and no more conscience than the rails themselves.

This was not a train of meaning or destiny
It was a train of accident, mere chance
This train just happened and will happen again,
and every time it will not mean a thing.
On every time its nightly darkened shadow
will seem to us a message or a curse


I wait for you to save me
but it is all in vain
You gaze upon the waters
ignoring my outstretched hand
lost in thought, your eyes
fixed upon the furious sea
do not see my sinking boat
You shove aside my hanging body
for better fruits in the same tree
I wait for you and die
over and over again
waiting is my only life
and yet I mind ending it now?

Our Celluloid Life

I like the part where we meet: so funny and yet so full of romance; although I am not crazy about all the coming and goings until we finally get together – all the little bits that showcase our fierce rivalry and one-upmanship that suddenly evaporates into naught when love comes to ring the bell at our doors.

I also like the part where I save you. Although I cringe a bit thinking about the imminent danger you were put in by my recklessness/my commitment to a cause/our sense of adventure/our life in the wrong side of the law/the bad guy dislike of me-you-us etc…

But I like the most the part where we kiss. You bend your head up and half open your willing lips and I lean over you and just take them in mine – discreetly, gentlemanly… the spotlight centers on us making a ring of light and leaving everything outside it in complete darkness. And we remain frozen this way, kissing forever, outside of the world, time, petty life and entropy.

( read translation in spanish )

Night Wife

As virgin snow in a clear winter night
her skin glows against the shadows of our room
waving sand dunes the tidal wind deposits on our bed
carving hills and valleys on the moonlit landscape
echoing fiery depths and icy peaks

My wife rests as the night sticks her breezy hand
through the half open window
to caress her body.

I stare fascinated
perfectly lonely by her side
She has no eyes for me.
She sleeps.
She is gone

I receive her with overwhelming gratitude
when she returns to wrap her legs around mine
I love her most when she makes me hate myself.