The Writing of David Andrés Alíx

I understand that I do not understand

Month: August, 2013


Qué gozada se dio

En ese último verano

Del viejo milenio

Bailamos juntos


Nos movimos

Porque se nos mandó

Por las letras y el ritmo

Del canto

Y asi mismo nos gustó


Los vínculos forjados


Amigos vestidos

En color de Consuelo

Aunque de negro

Celebrando algo

Fresco, vivo, nuevo

Lo que anhelamos

Nosotros, los humanos

Estar entre amigos

Más fuertes que hermanos

Estando dispuestos

Y a la mano

Cuando llegue

Nuestro día vestido de negro

Disfrasado de

Una montaña


Con pasos empinados

Solo nos levantamos

Cuando lleguen ellos

Nuestros amigos

Sempiternos, amados

Nos levantan

Para prepararnos

Dar una gozada

Bailando bajo

El árbol de higos 

Que Dios nos dio

Disfrutando de su compañía

Miles de veranos



Weeping Roses

Weeping Roses

The rose

Bows low


Her petals


To the

Grass below

Oppressed by

Years of blows

By her

Beating sun



Gleeful surgeon in surgery

Injecting epoxy at a kyphoplasty

Playing a drumroll on the patient

Who is asleep

What makes you happy?


Did you not see the same

Report as me on TV?

A half billion trying to flee

Their own country?

Flattened bodies on the highway

So pretty?

Cheerful surgeon

What fills you with glee?


Ladrona Muerta

¿Haz entrado la nostalgia en
Tu corazón?
Es un ladrona
Arréstala, encarcélala
Llene el candado con el acero
Fundido de tu determinación

Si su música gira tu Mirada
Acuérdate que es una condenada

No te hagas filósofo
Sino guardia bruto
Y con la culata
De tu escopeta
Estrállala en la cabeza
Cállala con la violencia
De tu determinación



Si una pizca de mi pensar

Habla a una pizca de tu corazón

Me habrás salvado la vida



Which one gives me hives?
I’ll have to call my curer, the one who gives good advice

Twenty-two pages of my chart
Transfered from my former


It was Cipro
“Causes swollen airway”
There is nothing more to say
Start the course of zithro
Prescribed without delay

I am anti anti-biotic
It is late to affirm
That I am not neurotic

Sometimes a sound mind
Is conferred not innate

Your nudge undid the blade
Set to lob off my nose
To spite my face

I am feeling better
At least in my lungs
I will remember
In the songs I will sing
And reflect through
Songs already sung

I’m  letting you know
Because it is your business
Never mind appropriateness

When it comes to that
You know

It might be found out
In the yard for the screen
That was left wide open
Years ago


Watkins Glen

Shaking hands
Flushed face
Pulse red with black stripe
Wins the race

Hood louvers fail to cool
Open wheel debris

Hay bale barriers
Dampen the crash ineffectively

The Black and White
Well fought fight
Eludes the pilot’s
Yellow flagged entreaty


Jump Suit

Jumping out of my skin

In a game I cannot win

Get out of jail card is a cell block transfer

I receive oxygen only from the plexiglass visitor

Who holds a glance just slightly longer

To let me know that hope may linger

That in the very distant future

We may breath in one another

Through something that is somewhat softer


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