Author: KCF

On a street in the neighborhood the other day, a car appeared without wheels, without engine, without windows, without seats. A mere car carcass. Someone had bothered to cart it there but its utility – beyond wishful thinking – was hard to see. You had to be really desperate or really imaginative to find beauty…

She was a beautiful child born the day the river Shannon overflowed A body of water that could not be contained was her name Her beauty like Venus was more poignant for a missing wing […]

She skips down the alley willy-nilly, dodging potholes and puddles. Her footsteps echo between the concrete walls and rolling metal security shutters. In the circle of light cast by a streetlamp, she leaps suddenly into the air and twirls, arms joyously flailing. Her chin is raised up and she smiles to the Gods who are…

I don’t usually leave bars dancing in the streets. But then again, these are not usual times […]

I consider my troubled relationship with plants a blemish on my character. To me, it is a tell-tale sign that something is askew, that I am too focused on something beyond me. Like meditation, plant husbandry eludes me […]

Let me read it to you: I am walking down a Buenos Aires sidewalk in scuffed shoes that I had intended to polish but never got around to. A whiff of diesel exhaust from an idling truck yanks me from this place and thrusts me into another where I am shivering outside a truckstop looking…

listen: I was born luminous And remember the light That burned within But one day that light Was snuffed out Left to smoulder Now there are so many things I would like to believe But can’t It is in the darkness Sadly, that I find The lasting truths Do not be afraid of the dark…

I crave to be taken as I am Unvarnished Raw Contradictory Exploratory Unfinished I was brought into this world Raw and bathed in bodily fluids God knows I have chased the bodily fluids Merging mine with theirs Coveting the spontaneous combustion Of chest against chest Of lips against lips […]

A butterfly tattoo at the milonga provokes a meditation on the beauty and tragedy of life.