October 3, 2015

Three Poems By Daniel de Culla: "A Particular Karma", "Concrete Tense", "Front Doors"

http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aGrGV9yEA5U/Ty6hwDsAOPI/AAAAAAAADO4/GEZzflbHuOY/s1600/culla.jpgDaniel de Culla (1955) is a writer, poet, and photographer. He is also a member of the Spanish Writers Association, Director of the Gallo Tricolor Review, and Robespierre Review. He’s moving between North Hollywood, Madrid and Burgos, Spain.
Daniel de Cullá (1955 Poeta, escritor, pintor y fotógrafo, miembro fundador de la revista literaria  Gallo Tricolor. Es miembro de la  Asociación Colegial de Escritores de España. En la actualidad participa en espectáculos que funden poesía, música y teatro. 


There’s nothing more to know
Than what I am
When I found the other side of what I want to be:
Karma is a prison of Mind for me
Through its windows we’re seeing mountains,
Reservations, rain and clouds over
The Valley of Perfect Wisdom
A highway overgrown with seed
And hands that yearn for eyes
A camp where we have been stopped
Hearing sounds ears to Earth
Inside the ground
Flashing the light through the wood
Over the stream expecting to see the end
On the same line of our dreams
Where we are like a wheel
Cracking air on air, spinal membranes
Already feeling our bodies down bags
Ready to start for a new place
Suddenly realizing our freedom
Coupled with the conscious plane
One’s environment surrounding us
Some exclamation of the tongue:
-Is Karma our Happiness?
Picking through a puzzle of sandblasted wood
And feeling lonelier than ever before
Karma as a trial
A stream into a miracle without doors
Opened from clouds and be content
Moving us within
Teaching us about our human hood.

            “I nominate angel.
                           Always angel”. – Luisa Pasamanik’s The
  Exiled Angel
    Receiving letters like receiving books
As Hans Christian Anderson’ “The little mermaid”
Or Giambattista Basile’s  “Sleeping Beauty”
Without a hand or eyes
That cannot see the blood of the seaboard towns
In one’s life about the tale
When one re-encounters one’s self alone
With a gentle wind in a boat of sunshine to sail
Into our welcoming heart
Opened by itself and died abruptly.
It is steel as the Sea Witch’ knife
To kill the prince and lets his blood drip
On the mermaid’ feet
The “Daughter of the air” committing suicide
As a passing accident
Which is at the same time
The crux of a destiny
Delineating the future concrete tense.


Baby O dynamite
mistress of the Star fish
swimming in my ears
where often a Wo/Man
remains alone
long to listen
Doors singing my business daily
dead as a door nail
into all this Channel
O.O. % Ecstasy. No¡
showing me a door
opening by itself
at the End of lives forgotten
when Sun is a dog cart
botted with gay dogs
of the dooms day
sit and dreaming
of the floor of our
Nothingness sentencing:
"Bakers dozen talk
19 to the dozen".

~Daniel de Cullá
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