Uptown poetry slam competition at Green Mill


The bad habit of words

eating from my plate

all the eaten noise

reaching the warm center

he said I’m here

and I replied:

look at that, this city, as a moving ground

feeding the anxieties in the memory

this alive ground, their nomad people walking

their languages coming and going

their silences, their fears

opening shadows in my breast

showing me the bright sunflowers of the night

the fired ground, the fugue of this territory as one

the fugue of the pretending solidity

thousands of words and their voided eyes

breaking my cardinal points

melting me with the moving ground

I used to have a love

but a blind one

and I just felt the growing noise on my plate

Chicago and their thousand tongues

you, Chicago, the clear ears of my donkey

me, your blue eardrums, your twisting streets, your misery melted each minute, one coin, two coins, three shouting coins, me your metal feet and the sidewalk concrete, and the abstract? (not yet, the flesh surrounds it, kills it). The others walk in the sun (oxidized or newborn, reversed if you want; either you face it, either you hide) and especially those steps, foot against foot on the blue back, on my spasm, steps directly to the disappearance … Which color? Which name?, which tone?, just vibrating shadows, tumble of deafness.


in the eye where I look at you

all the uncertainties consuming the edges

transforming the air in a strange creature

we are a child’s insomnia

his dream in the fountain

in the morning and in my straying,

you saw him too

the child permuting the paths

the dried fruit in the sprouting tree

his laugh rising majestically

and you not blinded anymore

you, lost like me in the clear ears of my blue donkey


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