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On returning to

The Rain Leaves brings a trip to the past. Not to any past as if it were a time machine in common use. But the writer's past. The incidental finding of some papers, in the midst of an inventory of life, forms the trigger for these publications.

At first text is a reflection on findings and memory. How to rediscover the simple fact of missing papers in time and space, makes recover lost space in our lives.

Then Being in what he believes mirror, a story about smelling of mildew, from A long smell of death, a book of thirty, she had plenty, bring the brief flash of a figure, someone who looks in a mirror.

The Poems of a forgotten book are the complement of the first reflection, the annex to the originator, its starting point, the roles rediscovered. These texts of youth. Poems that thought disappeared from the face of the land and people and the great universal memory, but suddenly found it in the least expected place and promptly returned to his life of paper. Are poems with lots of short stories. Each of them is a picture that is described herself in solitude. Reflection of a reflection. Word of the silent speech of the image. The reader to judge with leniency and severity.

I hope this rain will be of benefit, as I have been to me.

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judge's findings and memory

found some papers pertaining to who he was, that being that is in the basement of the soul. There, after the map that represent descending into my own land, and I rediscover. The forgotten in the shadows becomes a snapshot. Light and darkness combined in perfect harmony, or at least in righteous living.

Only then can we stand up act to decrease our observation tower in the world with a more clear. Our eyes are accustomed to perceive the tiny glimpses of clarity in our basement, look further and calm the urge to expel words out of space and time.

is no coincidence that, taking stock of life, find those old papers that I was and who I am that survives. Poems completely forgotten. Excluded from the Darwinian natural selection of the written word. This selection uses as many tricks as aberrations in any place or any event or forgotten.

At least for the time I have recovered. Loose papers that were lurking in the drowsiness of a yellow folder with the smell of time held. Typescripts, with deletions and amendments in blue ink. Papers for nothing, last gasps of a mortally wounded tree, suddenly become to have meaning and make sense of this plant be retained.

But it is a puzzle, a challenge of reconstruction and fighting in a maze of my own Minotaur. How I have changed. But the remaining speech by my words. And the returns from the inability to face the light again today, to become virtual field after being suspended in limbo for any possibility.

Everything that is written the same fate. For moments, for years, for eternity, that of being subjected to the possibility of existence, remember or forget.

Therefore, to have in my hands again these yellowing papers, which revived in my memory to the young that still lingers on me, I have wanted to share this discovery that the reader can only describe as lucky. And time will tell the rest, if they survive their second chance at life, resurrection.

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Being in what he believes

Desert on one side and the other and him at the center, thinking she saw a mirage that is not even that, because only a broken mirror which reflects the blind briefly with the feeling of finding someone nearby.

But no. Not expecting anyone.

rescuers did not expect any of those arriving late in the film, as does imagine the light beam projected onto the glass eyes.

but did not expect to see himself, held a moment, to know that their existence persisted. That

life that transmits its figure reflected and escapes from an irresistible thirst that does not mitigate the drink the blood of the wounds that occurs with the mirror that shows your own end.

De A smell of death Largo (1980)

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mirror of a forgotten book Poems

large field

virgin

targeted by a

ray light

flat even

reduces

a rectangle

trapped between

pages of a book.

gray buildings

open to loneliness

fog with shadows indefinite

of those who did not stay.

Long,

like her dress,

without worrying step

given

or next,

low static

a ladder missing

like her.

Dance

tango,

see

the camera.

will try

forever

movements impossible.

Despite the time

portrays him well

hand on his chest. Toca

absence.

not save heart.

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The river fills its bed word

The Rain Leaves today brings back a flood of words, if not increased, at least within their normal course. Once experienced the earliest, maybe not the greatest but if accurate, this flow returns to normal.

Even the first proposal is reflective Against shortly. The self-contradiction for someone who said that brevity is the highest aspiration of the reader and the writer. Yet at last count no counterclaim.

Then runs a short story entitled Perseus perhaps not so lucky , where the protagonist explores his life of quite appalling, as it should, the mythological experience.

Three Poems of return Rain ending this day. Explain these poems is to take away the taste of your mouth. If those words might have some taste.

Let the reader to cool in the river that never stops moving.