All dentists are pretty 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 My dentists are high, cute, 
 other students should have been a twinkle beauty 
 
 still young and has a charming smile. 
 Whence came this race? Is it another world? 
 Somehow, nothing less than a social 
 class play. 
 torture me with infinite tenderness, 
 slender fingers wrapped in latex. In moments of pain 
 peak, 
 begin to think how will their lives and how one gets used 
 to suffer for the benefit of a goal 
 deferred. 
 hear the musical kitsch 
 not forgive anyone. Speculate on the ability 
 manual perhaps a profession that guarantees 
 a minimum level imaginary dream 
 scale of the economy, even servile 
, wet, monotonous 
 as slave labor for another 
 enjoyment. And so little in those afternoons I fall asleep and forget 
 punctures. 
 There is value, just a response to aggression 
 intermittent and prolonged. 
 But I can understand or remember 
 of his skinny body with half of what weighs 
 now fastened to a stretcher 
 mobile machine will shoot 
 
 phosphorescent liquid through channels 
 tiny bodies and just 
 starting two months. I can see it still mourn the injection 
 
 radioactive material and tired then close your eyes, 
 asleep while moving apparatus hell 
 
 mechanical axes and lit electronic devices. No courage needed 
: resignation this 
 by a well that is not there. I do, 
 and did not have, did not want, but just 
 not escaped me cry. Laocoon 
 snakes will cry when I pressed dark 
, 
 but not for himself but for his children. 
 sentence was absurd, nonsensical, stupid 
 almost divine, and the moment when the howling 
 huge 
 seemed to rule on his lips, pressed 
 teeth and decided to die like a statue. 
 Baby will thistles surrounding the body of a technology 
 increasingly foolish and dreamed 
 inaccessible beauty. 
 So that now, my dentist, who ignore the existence of evil 
. 
 are dedicated to their craft and do not imagine the sad 
 patient's thoughts. 
 carefree humming songs speak for themselves, and as my son 
, 
 perfectly healthy, laugh at the smallest of gestures 
 someone else makes them. 
 
 
   
 
       Mattoni Silvio was born in Cordoba 1969. In poetry, published  The Byzantine  (1994), Three   dramatic poems (1995), Sagittarius   (1998),   canephora (2000),  The larvae country  (2001),   Threads ( 2002),   Ride (2003), sentimental   Poems (2005),   Trips (2006),   Neglect (2007),  The division of the day.  Poems 1992-2000 (2008) and   Heroes (2009). At trial, the books  Koré  (2000),   Silver Bowl (2003), and  This  (2008). Translated Henri Michaux, Francis Ponge, Catullus, Marguerite Duras, Diderot, Mario Luzi, Georges Bataille, Cesare Pavese, Pascal Quignard, Louis-René des Forêts, Yves Bonnefoy and Robert Marteau, among others.  
Monday, July 26, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Student Loan Installment Dates
 Someday, Paris 
   
   poetry, dance and love. How incomprehensible! And yet they are fed bits of beauty that every day. Sometimes seek perfect love, the perfect poem, perfect motion, but all that eludes us. There are those perfect eternal, but only those moments of beauty and perfection: a crane, breaking the blue sky and the moon in the afternoon, hanging wires and two birds standing on them, the static flight of hummingbirds, the patience of a cat against its prey, the precision of one word with another. This will form the sentences of my life, full of moments of pure perfection, the rest are just ideas.    
 
Paris someday be ours. Dance till you drop. For now there remains only a memory. E infinite thanks for sharing your moments of beauty. E ste you want is a real moment, as 12 years ago, and within many more.
 
                                            
    
   poetry, dance and love. How incomprehensible! And yet they are fed bits of beauty that every day. Sometimes seek perfect love, the perfect poem, perfect motion, but all that eludes us. There are those perfect eternal, but only those moments of beauty and perfection: a crane, breaking the blue sky and the moon in the afternoon, hanging wires and two birds standing on them, the static flight of hummingbirds, the patience of a cat against its prey, the precision of one word with another. This will form the sentences of my life, full of moments of pure perfection, the rest are just ideas.    And yet, unable to translate this poem "perfect" ("perfect for what? Perfect for whom?) I found a rare jewel as it does today, but perfect, it should be. Today nothing is out of place, everything is beautiful, now the sun shines and the moon rises in the east, is now perfect. And although the physical absence of someone to grieve, but the hugs and kisses not materialize, today is perfect.  
 Paris someday be ours. Dance till you drop. For now there remains only a memory. E infinite thanks for sharing your moments of beauty. E ste you want is a real moment, as 12 years ago, and within many more.
    Dance me to the end of love   
   by Leonard Cohen (song)    
  
  
     Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin.   
     Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in.   
     Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove.   
     Dance me to the end of love   
     Dance me to the end of love   
     let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone.   
     let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon.   
     show me slowly what I only know the limits of.   
     Dance me to the end of love   
     Dance  me to the end of love   
     Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on.   
     Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long.   
     We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above.   
     Dance me to the end of love   
     Dance me to the end of love 
  
Dance me to the children who are asking to be born.
  Dance me to the children who are asking to be born.
   Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn.   
     Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn.   
     Dance me to the end of love   
      Dance me to the end of love   
     Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin.   
     Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in.   
     Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove.   
     Dance me to the end of love   
     Dance me to the end of love   
     Dance me to the end of love   
  Monday, July 19, 2010
What Does A Tremolo Do
This is the cartoon for a new issue of Magazine Ilike Spain.
Another good news is that I got the numbers you review published today and I was really surprised at such good quality of the print magazine and my job!
Many thanks to all who make the magazine.
I hope to have some new work soon. Greetings to all
pablo
  
  Saturday, July 10, 2010
Beautiful Agony Best Of
 Crimewave 
      
After all, you always manage to reach the grand design but never know how things are really concerned. Sam Raimi is a powerhouse of anarchy; shows that Keaton gag continues and black humor is a necessary condition for our existence. 
  
After all, you always manage to reach the grand design but never know how things are really concerned. Sam Raimi is a powerhouse of anarchy; shows that Keaton gag continues and black humor is a necessary condition for our existence.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
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