Who decides whether you’re a poet or not?
Who has that kind of power,
Over word,
Over meaning,
Over the human spirit?
Why should you suppress or hide the very voice
That defines and proclaims you,
That gives, You, life; with a path to the eternal.

Who cares if you Harvest playful aphorisms
Or bloodthirsty epics,
If the same you navigate
The “en corsage” classic riddle
Or an out-of-whack avant-garde proposition.
Why not scream it out loud to the four winds:
That today, you are a poet.Why not say it?
“Today you are, I am, we are, poets.”
Careful, or not, as you well know,
Tomorrow someone will arrive to measure with rigor
Your tangled-up complaint,
To deconstruct the bridge
—That we have crossed together—with a newly born doubt
And your poem will rest in some filthy street drain
Refused and ignored by the godly followers
Of the powerful.
And Me? I’ll just stay in front of the mirror,
Dreaming-up the next metaphor (or something else like that);
I’m just saying.
Raúl Castillo Soto


Introduce tus datos o haz clic en un icono para iniciar sesión:

Logo de WordPress.com

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de WordPress.com. Cerrar sesión /  Cambiar )

Google photo

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de Google. Cerrar sesión /  Cambiar )

Imagen de Twitter

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de Twitter. Cerrar sesión /  Cambiar )

Foto de Facebook

Estás comentando usando tu cuenta de Facebook. Cerrar sesión /  Cambiar )

Conectando a %s