Rose

My mother went to the grave with a Three-

Dee printed rose upon her chest so still.

I had created the file in Blender

A few weeks prior to her final parting.

Perfect square poligons like the precise

Modernity of our screwed-up relationship.

She was a modern girl, free and unbound

By details of propriety and bullshit,

A 60's woman stuck in a medieval,

Fascist, oppressive, backwards country: Spain.

A beauty unrecognized by all, except

By her son here who's writing in despair,

For complete lack of words. Isn't it funny

How words don't cover up for our inadequacy?

Except I would, now that I see more clearly,

Flood her with endless chatter and caresses,

Scan her whole, turn her into an immortal

Model, creepy but sweet, proud and eternal.

I'm afraid even this would not suffice

To erase the deep glitch left behind by her,

So this matrix of craze will have to do

Until we join again in the recycled

Vortex of matter that resembles light.

Caps cots

M'assec a dins del metro i vaig mirant
la gent mirant-se el mòbil, transportada,
no per les rodes fosques del rovell
del temps robat a desitjos llunyans,
sinó per aures de somriures lleus.
Recordo quan, de petit, agafava
el metro atapeït de tristor sòlida,
un garbuix de fracassos oblidats.
Aquesta trista imatge ja no hi és,
va fugir fa molt temps, foragitada.
Per bé que és cert que, sí, llegíem més
mentre creuàvem els túnels convulsos
de creosota i llums abandonats,
també és cert que percebo una harmonia
angèlica utopia humanitat
abocats uns als altres, enllaçats,
whatsapps entortolligats amb anhels
agosarats, sorneguers i feliços
de retrobar-se per fi despullats
de regles socials i teranyines
que a poc a poc ens escanyen i ens fan
pàl·lida carn submisa i abatuda.
Per tant, llanceu les xarxes, escampeu
els filaments eteris de l'amor!