window time

{Day 7 of 30}

I write to W and suddenly my writing is in English in the first place (not Spanish) and as days written in bird´s sings cant be translated… This one will remind without translation.


The little boy, playing in bed / while his wounded mother cooks,
is throwing little words and circles / out of the window.

She smiles / (the whole world lights up)
he chatters excitedly – What can he see?

There’s a monkey at the window – behind the door!
But he is falling /into darkness.

Cutting pieces of wood… this was not so useful so I gave up and had a cold house for the night. What a surprise later when I found a box full of little pieces of wood, it was hidden somewhere between the wall and the old three, right in the shade… its funny the things we put attention on and the others that we just pass trough without notice. Like this story… I don’t know why I like it so much… then I think is always about poetry like today that I just felt like start learning Arabic… just because… or that I am suddenly in love of Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi just because… Africa – just because…


She never taught him how to cry only how to sing.
Happy in herself – just as she wished to be –
she taught him endless space and vastness
and she calls him: Open-hearted.

I tell W about the pointlessness of clocks in this house. Here the time doesn’t matter, but days are weighted by the light that comes in the morning trough my window… then the warmth that comes trough the window to the living room, the red reflection of the clouds that paints the window in a different color, or the absence of light that reminds me its winter so it’s time to get the fire going… and warm up the house of a stranger that is my house.


Behind him a mountain of metaphors
in front a river a mouthful of night
and a train of caravans calling him away.

He wets himself / with laughter
running through Eternity – through this alleyway
this pack of dogs / the conspiracies of fate!

Today I go outside, I go for a bike ride around the neighborhood of mountains following the path, I play, I take some photos… I feel I got lost in some fairy tale – the nature is amazing here. Then in my way back I stop in Ron’s house to have a tea and we go shopping -the little happiness of fresh milk and cashews-. I think while looking the squared glasses and shiny eyes of this 80 years old man: There is a fine line that is crossed when the traveler in bike taking pictures steps in Ron’s house to drink tea in the yellow-round-shape- cup that his grandson gave to him. A fine line that covers a whole other world.


The solid front door remembers the hand that made it –
You are the key – and the creak of the universe — it’s your sole secret
(Long is the absence of light / that paints things awake –
Long is the presence of paint!)

You come home exhausted — from wherever you’ve been
the wind at your side — just as you wished
toyed with by traumas.

Came back home and now I have something in the oven. I found rhubarb in the garden, Fruit? Vegetable? Plant? or Flower? all at one? I make a sweet with it and I am sure I will eat the hole thing for dinner. I check my window: its around after-sunset… and just another day and maybe because Taumarunui is a foggy  town or maybe because my perceptions have changed through the window but it feels the line between days have vanished making a continuous of moments. Like the stream of the river in my backyard.


In the forest the lonely one knows all the voices
beckoned by the eyes of loved ones
their songs are luring her / with their tender fingers
and her own translucent solitude.
She sits in silence /close to every thing
brewing tea / stirring the porridge.

In the garden / of a strange home her home
she welcomes the pots and pans
to the sounds of morning.
Scrubbing everything in its proper place
one eye on the radio
that calls her to those distant sands
the desert.
But her colour flow like a river
so she can sing….

*Fragments of the beuuuutiful poem “A monkey at the window” by Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi (love love love).

What Desafío Creativo is?

Is a Dynamic  that started in Caminomundos.  The challenge is to do some creative work for 30 consecutive days, can be posts, poems, pictures, etc. Do you want to participate?

HERE: This is a creative writing experiment where I’m mixing my dairies. Sometimes I write from the present or sometimes I just post my old dairy that I wrote when I live aboard a sailboat for one year.

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