How to walk backwards

Ralph found a book and saw words: “Abandon your past to drown and dry.”

Ralph was not old. Ralph saw: “Don’t look down for a walk backwards has no floor.”

Ralph was young and strong. But Ralph was bald. Ralph had a bathroom. Motor sounds from that bathroom would annoy Ralph. So Ralph sang words from that book Ralph found, “Among rats you’ll forward through narrow, half-loop turns as you walk backwards.”

“What a funny book,” Ralph thought. Ralph lost control. A tumor burst from Ralph’s hand. Glands would now pop around Ralph. Odd odors would now float about Ralph’s body.

Ralph’s bathroom was stuffy. Would Ralph catch a flu?

Ralph was rung by Samantha.

“Hago,” Ralph told Samantha.

“What you up to?” Samantha told Ralph.

“A funny book,” Ralph told Samantha.

“Funny, ha ha? Or funny, blah?” Samantha told Ralph.

“Funny, boom boom,” Ralph told Samantha.

“Happy Boss Day!” Samantha told Ralph.

“Boss Day?” Ralph told Samantha.

Ralph had no job. Ralph was poor. Ralph told Samantha, “You cannot succumb to worry. That’ll snuff your walk.”

“Book words,” Ralph thought.

Samantha told Ralph, “Too much hurt. Can’t. Can’t. Want to. But can’t. Amor…”

Ralph thought Samantha dumb.

Why?

Grounds: Ralph wants Samantha. Ralph wants to fuck Samantha. Samantha won’t fuck Ralph. But Samantha always calls Ralph up.

Ralph told Samantha, “An actor holds your hand and bombs you at dark as you walk backwards.”

“Shut up!” Samantha told Ralph. “Rotard’s a good boy.”

“Booooor…Boooooor….Booooordom,” Ralph told Samantha.

“Rotard’s fun,” Samantha told Ralph.

“Funny book, ha ha,” Ralph told Samantha. “Ugly top. Says, ‘Don’t fall for stock. Bunk facts cloud and brush away all that’s gold.’”

“How’s your tumor?” Samantha told Ralph.

“Burst-boom,” Ralph told Samantha.

“Oh, no! So sorry!” Samantha told Ralph.

“Flaunt your walk,” Ralph told Samantha.

“My stomach hurts now,” Samantha told Ralph.




Everything around me has caught fire

Unedited, new Platitudes song, “Everything around me has caught fire.”

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Missed Connections and Casual Encounters

My latest poetry collection, Missed Connections & Casual Encounters, will be published as en eBook at Read Some Words.

Read a review by David Fishkind HERE.

New poem, “Plena en Old San Juan,” published at Gutter Eloquence. Check that out HERE.


Argentinian Artists

My proofer for the to-Spanish translations I do, Marina Reyes, studies art curating in Argentina. Sometime soon, she will be bringing some of these artists to Puerto Rico.

Check them out:

Itamar Hartavi

Ramiro Oller

Valeria Vilar

Nicolas Ozuna

Mario Scorzelli



New Translations!

Cuarto oscuro

Somos animales y
cuando los animales pasan meses en un cuarto oscuro
se les olvida el hambre
y solamente se rien
derramando gérmenes sobre
el estuco.

- Translated from English by Andy Riverbed with proofs by Marina Reyes Franco

Dark Room

We're animals and
when animals spend months in a dark room
they forget their hunger
and just laugh
spilling germs on the face
of the stucco.

- Joseph Goosey


***UPDATE***

After being accessed by David Leavitt on the legalities of publishing translations of deceased authors without permission, and out of fear of legal retributions, I have decided to temporarily (hopefully) delete all translations of José María Lima's work on the Instruction Manual until I have official permission to do so.

Sorry for the inconvenience.

- AR 4/26/10



esta mujer nueva

emite noventa palabras
por cada cinco de las tuyas:

la mayoría son
el eco de calidad inferior
de un pajaro carpintero.

casi te gustaría
sonarle la cabeza
con un gran par de cimbales.

la sala
de su casa
esta decorada
con grabados orientales

hay un
pequeño cuenco lleno de disquitos de canela
sobre la mesa ratona de bambú.

esta tarde
ella parlotea sobre
su ansiedad severa antes de examenes
cuando estaba en la universidad.

asientas con la cabeza
en momentos apropiados
y te comes los disquitos de canela
como un castor sufriendo de un desorden de obsesion compulsivo
en lo que tu dialogo interno
corre una lazada corta:

¿qué carajo haces aquí?
¿qué carajo haces aquí?
esto no es una opción viable a largo plazo
¿qué carajo haces aquí?

—y después ella te maniobra

—se vivaquea al lado tuyo

—corre sus uñas
a lo largo de tu brazo.

te la tiras
sobre tu hombro
y subes
hacia su cuarto
donde las paredes
estan pintadas de rojo sangre.

alguna noches
se besan
por horas sin fin
hasta que el rastrojo
de tu barbilla
frota cruda su piel.

ella es el
mejor canto de culo
que has tenido en una decada.

esto probablemente
terminará mal.

- Translated from English by Andy Riverbed with proofs by Marina Reyes Franco



this new woman

emits ninety words
to every five of yours:

most of it
substandard echo
of the woodpecker.

you'd half like to
clang a large pair of cymbals
over her head.

the living room
of her townhouse
is decorated
in oriental prints

there is
a little bowl of cinnamon disks
on the
bamboo coffee-table.

this evening
she prattles on
about her severe test anxiety
while in college:

you nod
at appropriate junctures
and work the cinnamon disks
like a beaver with ocd
as your internal dialog
runs on a short loop:

what the fuck are you doing here?
what the fuck are you doing here?
this is not a viable long term option
what the fuck are you doing here?

- then she maneuvers

- bivouacs beside you

- runs her fingernails
up the length of your arm.

toss her
over your shoulders
upstairs
to her bedroom
where the walls
are painted blood red.

some nights
you kiss
hours on end
until the stubble
on your chin
rubs her skin raw.

she's the
best piece of ass
you've had in a decade.

this will
end badly.

- Justin Hyde