I grew up watching mountains as a promise.
A father wasted by the eternal fire on the shop’s furnace.
A mother whose mother was mother on loan.
Loving slopes. I grew up thinking that nature was trees
In a park.
Sometimes I drive my car far,
Somewhere out of this urban ocean
That I am diving into wild.
But the wildest here is how we harvested concrete.
This pawn shop of natural spirits:
Landscape framed by the fast windows of the subway.
Today gave birth to another windy spring.
Does it matter anymore?
I sit neat in a terrace just to watch people come and go.
Rain left the asphalt clean and pleased
And I marvel at the flowers planted on the windowsills.
This is it.
This is him.
Springy boy dotting his landscape with promises of new horizons,
Where cars are grassy, buildings leafy and people flowery.
Daisies keep blooming upon manhole covers
And I still have hopes.
Spring in cities is rolling down the window
The miracle of sight.
Nice rhythm while life cheers up the prosaic tragedies
Of common men like me.
I guess I look stupid sitting in this park,
staring at that kid,
When he caresses daisies before he takes them to his mouth
The gentle bread of time that he will store in mind
For days to come
When spring is done and darkness catches his breath.
To see Ãngel’s other entry and his bio, go here.
Wire up my mind to
The seeds are roasting on my chest
I can only think
I blame the birds for
My sympathy to god
God must be larks
Maps taking shape
Still having hopes
When light gets
Dark and we get scared
Flee Flee Flee
Mean kids playing free
In the park
And me here wanting to grab what I can’t grab
Because I keep my hands on the keyboard
Instead of plugging them into the wet ground
Spring is bringing back the thrill
Self-pity is leaning towards the edge
And embrace the risk
Ãngel was born in Barakaldo, Basque Country, northeastern Spain around 1976. Currently, he is a professor of English at the University of the Basque Country where he has been teaching literature, poetry and history as well. Some of his short stories have been published in Deia newspaper and some other anthologies after being winners of contest such as Villa de Gordexola, Ciudad de Eibar or Ortzadar–all of them in the Basque Country. In the last few years all his creative efforts have been focused on his dissertation on Phyllis Barber’s work and some other scholarly stuff but he still got some time to publish a short story in a Chilean literary magazine and poetry in WIZ. All his poems in Spanish remain unpublished, waiting for the day Ãngel feels confident enough to find an outlet for them.