this embrace as soon as text
BUSINESS WITH THE LORD K
By Rafael Bautista S.
A poem? That was a standard response (also of those who read). What triple was a surprise departure: people, plastics ynosotros (the squad). The plastics were four: Marcelo, Laura, Marcia and Marcela. We were erratic and the surprise came from our side, but, as Don K (aka Juan Carlos Ramiro Quiroga), one could read out the text.
plastics proposal was simple: remove the poetry of a strictly textual. At first I thought another one of those postmodern extravaganzas, from time to test yet (as in sex), but no longer is around to prove, and had for you to enjoy some unsuspecting (like us) that all he had done was to write poetry.
But it became something else (which was something because it was plastic, they did everything with it.) And I must admit that the surprise I went to the expectation: there what else happens? Then I brought the experience was, in my case, welcome, I do not know if that was calculado.Fue grata for two reasons, because apart from the experience that gave us the plastic (I know not like but not how to tell) accompanied us another, who handed themselves convened in parallel to the event. There could have left a notebook of memories, with a first chapter entitled: The day the poet was sad, and a narrated epilogue that abandonment foamed in the cabins. But let's get what we have. Le
I agree with Don K. Entrenched resistance wake. And those who attended the beginning we should have understood that our acceptance otorgabales the right to them (the plastic) to un-do what was done in the paper. Because once that the making out of our "privacy", it has to face the world alone (as a soldier), for that one you saw and gives the blessing to go to the world and no longer depend more on our skirts.
All reading is an interpretation and what they were doing was this: a (more) reading, and whether they could be said that our of otrosmodos because they were nothing more than confirming the importance of senses offering a text. The uproar was partly that, the sustainable prey snatched the "immaculate intent" so-called poetic, but not to exaggerate, final porqueal clerks realized that poetry is not as pristine and virgin as sacred as a people. But the uproar was because, once understood the question, who we were to discuss the matter, we already lining up in the chingadera that, for we were so excited because the thing we opened other possibilities and we came in late (or with glasses).
So I think they caught prey sustainable plastics then (Up to and we tuteaban and sent us to throw the company) because we no longer could contain (that is to offer new toy a naughty child) and we were that we carried with all (until Vadik Gregorian chant was made) until that we stay over.
But before we dropped the curtain, I took what I could: the book of Homer Azuela Pancho these lines: "There are a hundred in the afternoon / today meet all worlds at once", the words Anabel, the patience of Marcelo and Laura, who is the woman who earned 1000 poems?; questions Emma, \u200b\u200bballoons, a bug that led to the chance meeting of an accordion and a Oruro which proved to be Moscow, the absence of some, the boys of "Fine Arts" and "De la Sierra", which made me search the memory the meaning of poetry: poetry is the flag of a people worthy dreams ( maybe that's why neoliberalism was so bad poetry), and flying back to me when I was happy August 1st. Don K
brought us, in his heavy suitcase, which had lost flying high in the sky beyond. And gave us clues about how everything happened, "while the astonishment of the Flemish / trimmed in red sunsets." His flying made me realize why the stewardesses are all so beautiful: it is the charm that brings the lightness. Could not best sing these lines but plagiarizing his voice (that of Don K) grandfather tired leaving the dream to tell a story to the grandchildren, "some straws wrapped in spider silk." And, forgetting Santa Cruz (in her stunning looks and lights that give more shadow than light) from the air, the flying thought he had done, that I had gone, never taught me because I never wonder (only now ) knew that a flyer should be done "to the astonishment of flamingos."
Around 2 am, after the nationalization
rafaelbautistas@gmail.com
BUSINESS WITH THE LORD K
By Rafael Bautista S.
A poem? That was a standard response (also of those who read). What triple was a surprise departure: people, plastics ynosotros (the squad). The plastics were four: Marcelo, Laura, Marcia and Marcela. We were erratic and the surprise came from our side, but, as Don K (aka Juan Carlos Ramiro Quiroga), one could read out the text.
plastics proposal was simple: remove the poetry of a strictly textual. At first I thought another one of those postmodern extravaganzas, from time to test yet (as in sex), but no longer is around to prove, and had for you to enjoy some unsuspecting (like us) that all he had done was to write poetry.
But it became something else (which was something because it was plastic, they did everything with it.) And I must admit that the surprise I went to the expectation: there what else happens? Then I brought the experience was, in my case, welcome, I do not know if that was calculado.Fue grata for two reasons, because apart from the experience that gave us the plastic (I know not like but not how to tell) accompanied us another, who handed themselves convened in parallel to the event. There could have left a notebook of memories, with a first chapter entitled: The day the poet was sad, and a narrated epilogue that abandonment foamed in the cabins. But let's get what we have. Le
I agree with Don K. Entrenched resistance wake. And those who attended the beginning we should have understood that our acceptance otorgabales the right to them (the plastic) to un-do what was done in the paper. Because once that the making out of our "privacy", it has to face the world alone (as a soldier), for that one you saw and gives the blessing to go to the world and no longer depend more on our skirts.
All reading is an interpretation and what they were doing was this: a (more) reading, and whether they could be said that our of otrosmodos because they were nothing more than confirming the importance of senses offering a text. The uproar was partly that, the sustainable prey snatched the "immaculate intent" so-called poetic, but not to exaggerate, final porqueal clerks realized that poetry is not as pristine and virgin as sacred as a people. But the uproar was because, once understood the question, who we were to discuss the matter, we already lining up in the chingadera that, for we were so excited because the thing we opened other possibilities and we came in late (or with glasses).
So I think they caught prey sustainable plastics then (Up to and we tuteaban and sent us to throw the company) because we no longer could contain (that is to offer new toy a naughty child) and we were that we carried with all (until Vadik Gregorian chant was made) until that we stay over.
But before we dropped the curtain, I took what I could: the book of Homer Azuela Pancho these lines: "There are a hundred in the afternoon / today meet all worlds at once", the words Anabel, the patience of Marcelo and Laura, who is the woman who earned 1000 poems?; questions Emma, \u200b\u200bballoons, a bug that led to the chance meeting of an accordion and a Oruro which proved to be Moscow, the absence of some, the boys of "Fine Arts" and "De la Sierra", which made me search the memory the meaning of poetry: poetry is the flag of a people worthy dreams ( maybe that's why neoliberalism was so bad poetry), and flying back to me when I was happy August 1st. Don K
brought us, in his heavy suitcase, which had lost flying high in the sky beyond. And gave us clues about how everything happened, "while the astonishment of the Flemish / trimmed in red sunsets." His flying made me realize why the stewardesses are all so beautiful: it is the charm that brings the lightness. Could not best sing these lines but plagiarizing his voice (that of Don K) grandfather tired leaving the dream to tell a story to the grandchildren, "some straws wrapped in spider silk." And, forgetting Santa Cruz (in her stunning looks and lights that give more shadow than light) from the air, the flying thought he had done, that I had gone, never taught me because I never wonder (only now ) knew that a flyer should be done "to the astonishment of flamingos."
Around 2 am, after the nationalization
rafaelbautistas@gmail.com
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