En el norte de Ñuñoa (my first draft of my first poem in Spanish)

En el norte de Ñuñoa,
camino por las calles calladas.
Cada día conociendo más los detalles tranquilos,
conociendo el calor de las esquinas verdes,
y convirtiéndome en las aceras mismas.

Estoy cambiando, paso por paso.
Pisoteo el perfume de las floraciones caídas
inhalando las explosiones añiles de las jacarandas.
Aspiro nuevas tonalidades, una bocanada de pinturas.

En las mañanas me uno al flujo ascendente.
Nos elevamos a los nacimientos del día,
a las fuentes de la corriente diaria,
hacia la cordillera que forma el nido ciudadano.

Aunque entrecierro, mantengo mi cabeza en alto
cuando se libera el cautivo nocturno de su cama montañosa.

Ojos desnudos, con iris abiertos,

me deleito del baño pajizo.

En el descenso facil de la tarde,
fuera de la agresión ruidosa de Vespucio,
escucho los regadores siseando,
rociando una canción de cuna pacificante.

El el norte de Ñuñoa
tenemos nuestro propio mundo
perturbados solo por el sistema de alerta
del equipo de perros
aullando al Universo.

Santiago, Chile

The brimming heart of this strip of earth
beats so softly, the flow is thick
and its lungs are starved
it strains to grow
and live.

It owes its all to the care of the range
bright strong looming mountains
make a soothing presence
a motherly nest
of grace.

Moral primer

When I think of

politics and views of

value in my eye,

The question is:

Who are you competing with?

And why?

We swim in deeper rivers now

You walked past my wave,
And then turned at my touch.

You dropped your things; nervous, on edge.

"You're the same", I thought, and smiled, 
As I watched your flustering shame,
As I took in your eyes once again.

The air was dull and cold, a winter's day. 

We hugged; you felt familiar, 
So slight and yet so real.
Warm, beloved, delicate, I pulled you close.
How has it been so long?

With instant growing feeling, we set off together, 
Catching threads of life between us,
Cascades of joy undammed.

So much to say, we talked at pace
Without fear of silence.
Different journeys of the heart, 
The distance we had to cover,
Yet conversation flows like milk. 
Nothing is small talk, nothing hidden.

We cleared up hazy memories,
Reeling in the years gone by.
A night in London somewhere.

The subject turns to old letters kept, and we 
Check the bonds have been preserved.
A stable pact, our common mischief.
We laugh at old Blur lyrics, sing some Frank Black.
Eddies of feeling stir with new vigour.

We soon decide to drink all day.
Our eyes start to linger, I swim in your gaze.
You tell me not to leave,
But you know I could never do that,
Not for any duty.
An old hook, a new line.

Once we paddled upstream, not quite innocent, 
But so much river has flowed since then.
Now we play in stronger currents.

The elation surges, now I feel it again
This fervent spring stoppled for too long.
"So, what about that desert island, huh?"

**

But no, we can't. We have to stop.
Things aren't the same. We need to think.
Look away or I'll look back.
If you moan like that I won't forget it.

I'll tell you how.
Not here, not now. Another world.
But this is it. The present chance.
This the absolute, the realest thing,
Undiluted by time.
The mind swirling through sensual motion
And raging ardour, pulsing fast.

**

Suddenly, the spell was broken, 
The tractor beam switched off.
My mind tried to collect itself,
From where it had been floating, triumphant.
The pangs begin.
You're not mine.

"You're the same", I thought, and wondered,
as I watched your flustering shame,
as I took in your eyes once again.