I am the messenger while the message. Vago
in a system where
foreign dealings, wherever you go,
light is split unevenly.
too many excuses for me not stoke the fire, but I choose to be
Prometheus
and carry out the disclosure.
I was born south of the world, where the crowns
are icy
for many other reasons that the latitudes.
I was born south of the world, regenerates Gomorrah
where each villa
desperate for the sole purpose of the survey.
I was born in the south over the world, in this Other America
disenchanted with everything,
less rage.
born and die here my days, my blood
here,
coming of Salamanca, Lebanon, Stockholm and Cremona,
built the walls.
live here,
weighing life and death in every miracle
daily
each implausible pretext of equality, each radiating
genuine expression of struggle,
for love, truth and justice.
Such is the fate unthinkable
a South American writer.
Such is the challenge,
the mysterious sense in what I post.
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