Golden Gate Bridge

GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE

by

Juan Carlos Vasquez 

Jay with a rope, Keith with vodka

We have a friend

 that invites us to makes pavilions out of gold

with fish and seaweed, it helps the family to fly,

as the dreams fly

and to wake up from a cesspool

in the back side of the shade

under a naked Trinity  the birds,

that  vast landscape

and it brings forth a relief.

See

it will teach you everything

without useless words,

if you want, from top to bottom

with a suit

and

drinking Gin and Tonic.

Jay with pills, Keith AA

we have a friend that it has thousand friends

that they have gotten to flap their arms

in an effort to fly.

Why it springs wings,

unfortunate garlands 

served with  with oceanic agony.

See,

look around

to the grate

granting to desires its whims,

with strong hands, flexing the knees

while contemplating sailing a boat.

Jay, Keith, you and me

We have a friend that

Unite us

that show us the way

where there are a lot of escape routes

the fury of the wind

without losing the fall,

4 seconds, 75 miles an hour

WAYS

By 

Juan Carlos Vasquez

Translation to

Keith O’ Donnell  and  Jay Sanchez

After I Jumping,  

I May regret and wish to return to the platform,

Too late  Falling,   F a l l i n g.

After falling, A whip splits my spine,

all that I was in life is but a silhouette marked

by a chalk outline.

And what if I shot myself ?

The Index in its depth

feeling all the weight,

 these spasms like dread discharges

to turn out the light, a night of brains blown out.

And what if it were a noose pulling tight around my neck?

The air leaving, the eyes bulging, blood bypassing the head,

memories calling,

painting the face red as a distorted Carnival Clown.

For this last trip

dragging with great effort

the fragile combination of nerves

urging in a swell of spasm in exact coordinates.

For this last trip

the toung uncoiling like a serpant

an afertaste on the palate

of life's last juice,

the veins bursting like fragile glass

scattering throughout the Universe.

To sleep forever

dreaming of  life

a deaf and dark night always arrives

plundering the body

full of Love

by

Juan Carlos Vasquez

Dead walking,
nude crawling in a love parade,
the return of the ambulances
without roads,
when I am close to a blissful high  
I long a lot for
caresses,
to help me fall asleep
it is night,
six months have gone by
between incenses over graves,
and a celestial restlessness,
visions of jupiter compacted into pipes.

This face cannot be mine
the face of Sunday
at noon.
If it wasn't noon
and had I something to do
these damn ambulance sirens
would not torment me
with their regrets.

How do I recover with punches
the street's quietness,
how do I destroy with an axe
the remembrances from my veins
without diving in a tub
to masturbate.

there is a horrible smell of beer,
so romantic yet so pathetic,
There are ideas of escape, and
lasting words.

if I had a dog his barking
would convince me but I have no dog,
only nights find I joy in contempt,
and instead of I protest
everything induce me
into a terrible and sorrowful laughter.

fotografia-arte digital: Juan Carlos Vasquez