Juan Manuel Zermeño Posadas    


Below, my translation of Juan Manuel Zermeño Posadas’ poem [PoeObama].

Juan Manuel Zermeño Posadas

Welcome you’re witnessing the birth of
a really fuckin’ postmodern poem:
one of those 80’s poems that wishes it was 90’s
a really hater poem that everyone detests
exclusively for readers of the best poetry:
this poem has Van Gogh’s lost ear
and the feet of Ezra Pound
in its infant stages I read it to ten bricklayers and an architect
and the architect’s daughter
-who herself was a poem-
so don’t come at me with your “poor structure”
this is a vegan poem and it recognizes its pro-grammarnazi,
pro-feminazi, pro-environazi influence and all the other
trends that legitimate its culturedness
-cheap shots that didn’t even occur to Góngora-
This poem is also an act of rebellion [I clarify]
To those that claim I didn’t understand
the whole ‘making the rose bloom’ thing
in the poem [I clarify] yes, I understood
but that’s not the point
more than just defending itself, this poem wishes to shine the spotlight onto its author
And if you want pop stick a lolly in your mouth
(It’d be a hit in Ancient Greece,
the Romans would’ve translated it and awarded it to Dante
for being vulgar or to Tesla in the UAE for being current)
this poem looks to break a plate or two
against the heads of the ten thousand anthologists
that roam about freely like Juan in his house
This poem seeks an anthology of poems

it will go door to door squeezing
door knockers
serenading the publishers’ moms
the tenth of may
it’ll be a well mannered poem
-children are a reflection of their parents-
it will be their pride and joy [up til its teens]
it’s going to decide it wants gauges instead of a piercing
in the final syllable in order to make
a perfect hendecasyllable
but at the end of the day we know
it’s just
a lazy do-nothing’s verse
an epigraph of future generations
it’s definitely the product of a bipolar poet:
one of those cocksuckers
that bends over
and wins prizes -this is a poem written under the auspices of a grant-
but the check dried up
and the poem had to be printed
to earn a living
it will become a rapper and have a black accent
-it will never again be a white verse-
it will live under racist’s censorship
and he just wanted to be like tupac
or nothing of the sort
perhaps it will become the cover of some self-help book
slogan of some transnational
or, worst case scenario, an acción poética painting
it’s a poem with a hard heart to
because in spite of being bad
it never loses hope that
someone might post its bond to the author,
let it go free and
be a heritage of the world and humanity
while the drunk who wrote it
still hunkers on the sofa
waiting for it to return and take care of him
in his old age
it’s a poem that doesn’t bite
the hand that feeds

🌆Golden City🌆

🌆Golden City🌆

A former LAPD officer turned sociologist observed that the overwhelming majority of those beaten by police turn out not to be guilty of any crime. “Cops don’t beat up burglars”, he observed. The reason, he explained, is simple: the one thing most guaranteed to evoke a violent reaction from police is to challenge their right to “define the situation.”…The police truncheon is precisely the point where the state’s bureaucratic imperative for imposing simple administrative schema, and its monopoly of coercive force, come together. It only makes sense then that bureaucratic violence should consist first and foremost of attacks on those who insist on alternative schemas or interpretations. At the same time, if one accepts Piaget’s famous definition of mature intelligence as the ability to coordinate between multiple perspectives (or possible perspectives) one can see, here, precisely how bureaucratic power, at the moment it turns to violence, becomes literally a form of infantile stupidity.
Medieval Illuminati Vocabulary

It’s been quite a long time, but here’s another list of weird words and phrases I learned while reading Die Henkerstocher: Der schwarze Mönch (aka: The Hangman’s Daughter: The Black Monk) by Oliver Pötzch. I’d recommend this series for high-intermediate German learners; although it takes place in Bavaria there is very little dialect (often simply stated by the narrator as having been “said in a thick Swabian accent”) and there’s nary a Proustian sentence. The biggest challenge for most readers will probably be the abundance of out-dated vocabulary (the story is set in the 16th Century). The first book (simply:Die Henkerstochter)is a great, fairly historically accurate read. The second book has had me loosing interest, though the series is a big hit in translation here in the States. Anyways, here’s my list for those interested.

-e Kutte: Cowl
-e Soutane: Cossack
-e Pranke: Paw (fig. for hands)
-e Völlerei: Gluttony
-r Tokajer: classic, noble wine variant from Southern Slovakia
-s Mordstrumm: [Austrian] a gigantic thing
-s Schäfterstündchen: a midday nap (lit: A little Shepard’s hour)
durchdacht [adj]: elaborate, well thought out
-r Quarkwickel: Quark poultice [aka a plaster cast for medicinal purposes]
-r Halunke: scoundrel, rascal
bezirzen: to sweet-talk [alternative but discouraged spelling: becircen]
-e Komturei: commandery administrative system of Teutonic Knight’s Order, made of of Komture
-r Zwinger: outer ward [of a castle]; [dog] kennel
-e Geisel: hostage [archaic: -r Geisel]
jmn. als Geisel nehmen: to take someone hostage
dezent [adv.]: subtly
jmd. in die Quere kommen: to get in somebody’s way; to cross somebody’s path
-r Krummdolch: curved dagger
-r Lakai: croony
-r Kienspanhalter: old utensil used to hold and light a piece of kindling gichtig [adj.]: gouty [uncommon alternative for: gichtkrank]
um jmn. herumscharwenzeln: to suck up to someone [Note: BEST VERB EVER!]
-r Tand: kitch, trinkets
-r Bezoar: [medical] hair ball, in context: production and uses of bezoars
-s Klistier: [medical] ENEMA [sooner or later, you have to learn this word, right?]
panschen: to water down/adulterate [wine/beverage]
verwesen: to decay/decompose [Note: Irregular Präteritum verwest]
-s Kyrieeleison: kyrie eleison, name of an important Eastern Orthodox prayer [Lord, have mercy…]
-e Mitgift: dowry
-r Kopffüßler: Cephalopods; name given for stupid children’s drawings of humans
-r/-s Furunkel: [medical] boil
-s Ketzertum: heresy
-r Schlifstengel: reedstalk
von jmd. sich in der Suppe spucken lassen: to allow others to get the better of oneself [Lit:_ to let someone spit in your soup_]
-e Borke: bark [less common synonym for Baumrinde]
-s Faustpfand: [tangible] collateral
jmd. den Hof machen: to court sb.; to woo somebody
-s Gelübde: vow
gen Himmel: heavenbound [gen is an archaic preposition for nach]
-r Ausschlag: [medical] rash
erzürnt: enraged [gehoben]

Bonus: An interesting TV spot about Pötzch from Bayerischer Rundfunk (with embarrassingly cheesy “comical” dramatizations)

Pretty good nature weekend for living in Chicago

Pretty good nature weekend for living in Chicago

this year i have to apply for things where people will judge me and tell me if i stack up to their expectations or not.

and i’ve done this plenty of times.

and it’s never not nerve-wracking, and it becomes increasingly difficult to fill in the lines and revise the essays.

working at job where the only interesting thing i do is develop ways to automatically do the boring things i’m asked to do.

tru nature

tru nature


me trying to start research :/


me trying to start research :/

(Source: theofficescreencaps)

2 cosas pegajosas

hoy traduzco bebiendo a sorbos un gin&tonic mal hecho en noche de verano tan caluroso dos poemas de óscar garcía sierra:

two sticky things


i don’t know how to dive in head first and i don’t know if that makes my head feel disappointed. my girlfriend has a pool and my girlfriend’s pool has a smaller pool
that contains the liquids that don’t yet smell bad enough to be
happy without us. the deeper i dive in her pool the more i feel like my girlfriend exists and the more i feel something the more disappointed i feel when it’s finally the feeling of someone. we bathe together until we shrink so much that people could carry us around in the pocket of their swimsuits and forget that we are there until we’ve shrunk again so much that we don’t know if we’re bathing together. my girlfriend’s pool has a family of pools to feed and works hard
for a shitty wage in order to protect her little pool from tv shows
starring drugs and bodily fluids. underwater you try to walk in heels
but since i don’t know how to dive you return to the surface with the same face that you make when i don’t know how to make you happy
in bed.
underwater we need each other so much that we invent porno versions
of cartoons. the version of cartoons where man reaches a state in which everything that leaves the body is more important than that which enters it.
act like the worst and the best thing that could happen to you converge in the chemical compound
that can detect piss in pools. the overrated version of my genitals
that you’ll show your parents. the annotated version for children of my favorite life
-of all the ones i imagine when i feel like i’m drowning- the one in which you don’t know how to breath and i show you how to backwards so that people will laugh at you and no one else will love you because i’m the kind of person that gives pet names to his bodily fluids.


we’re in the fitting rooms of a parallel universe where everything is unisex. up until today
i’ve erased my initials from the underwear of everyone i’ve slept with.
up until today i thought that my life was shitty until i realized that i don’t
have anyone to compare it with. today i swapped the picture of you in underwear you gave to me for my last birthday for underwear and i was inspired by you to make an alcoholic version of myself. today i feel human like when i fill my mouth with things and someone asks me to speak and i have to pretend that i like to talk with my mouth full.
there was a summer so hot that everyone swapped their underwear for mouths full of underwear. you’re erasing your name from my fake boxers while
you put up your hair, making it into the shape of stuck gum in a porn chat.
today i saw two people that looked like us do thing that we used to do when we didn’t look like each other. there was a summer so hot
that there were never again hot summers because people
didn’t know how to use the heat with control. nature is your underwear every night when you’re able to take them off without first removing your outer clothes. there was a summer
so hot that you took your bra off through your pants and you opened your eyes wide aware that
in the future you’ll appear in everyone’s textbooks as the person that did away with all that was pre-established in the art of removing your bra without first removing your outer clothes. there was a fucking shitty ass summer in which they made us chose between pain and the ability to feel pain, i’m sitting on someone’s face who has their pants down and a fishnet jersey from American apparel on and i ask you the favor of not
calling me again until you find the pair of panties with my telephone number that i gave you. tomorrow we’ll take revenge on people who are happy feeling happy without them even knowing.




no sé tirarme de cabeza y no sé si mi cabeza se siente decepcionada por ello.
mi novia tiene una piscina y la piscina de mi novia tiene una piscina más pequeña
que cuida de los líquidos que aún no huelen lo suficientemente mal como para ser
felices sin…