Chairs For a long time I sat between chairs till I was tired of It That day I decided to put another chair between the chairs For one

Those bloody years I could sing to you about distant lands, about attractive anecdotes, about miracles, about multicolored birds, about the squirrels which ate out of my hand

This bedroom I love this bedroom with a single door and dimmed lights at my side. A small bathroom not far from the bed and a lot of

A Gentle Breeze from the East Seductive as poppy pours dawn its red over the lake a pleasure for the eye a lukewarm wind from the East caresses

      Window III                                                                    Chile You, little troubadour, who opens the mornings, tell me: When the cherry tree dies, will you return at dawn and sing

        At night I write from the bed and plunder the fruits of darkness to exchange them for coins made of words. While herding words

In the waves The sea so green and so open I have my feet in the water I see fishes in the waves the summer the summer arrived

What It Is It is nonsense says reason It is what it is says love It is misfortune says calculation It is only pain says fear It is

The rose of writing to Tulio Mora To court her, to transplant her, poets, to the white sheet, to caress her thorn, till it bleeds aroma and colours

The Poetic Evening Concerts of ITHACA More than just concerts … unforgetable events! Full house at the Poetic Evening Concerts of the Cultural Foundation ITHACA, Altea (Alicante) SPAIN