Can You Get A Uti From Brazilian Wax

Rocio Soria R. (Quito, 1979)

mentions:

David Ledesma Vazquez Ileana

Espinel Carlos Eduardo Jaramillo

R onduct graphic design studios, media, print media, Ecuadorian art and is currently pursuing a Masters in Literature. Published Footprint Concept ", a book with which he won the Second Prize in Poetry Contest, Universidad Central del Ecuador, 2003, also won the First Prize in the Inter-University Short Story Competition, Universidad San Francisco de Quito, 2005; International Award Poetry Fanny Leon Cordero, 2005, Bronze Medal in the Poetry Contest, Short Story and Essay, Faculty of Philosophy, Central University of Ecuador, 2006; I First Prize in the Book and the Rose, UNESCO - Pontifical Catholic University Ecuador, 2006. published "The Body of the Son", 2008.

He won the Prix

Espinel Ileana Cedeño, Casa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana, Núcleo Guayas, 2008 and was selected to integrate the First National Competition Anthology of Poetry, Cultural Workshop Return, Casa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana, 2009. He also published a book of poems titled "Isadora", 2009.

Part of his poetry has been collected in national and international anthologies, has been translated into English and invited to meetings within and outside the country.

• POETIC

There are matters that can not be treated differently than the poetry was useless addressed from other languages \u200b\u200bbecause they have the particularity of the poem , implicit invocation of the poem, prophecy, open fracture, the enjoyment or passion. There is no language like poetry to approach death, madness, loneliness, pain, old age, sadness, spirituality and other intimate matters of human beings.

The poem is a ghost who survives in a heartbeat from the locks of the body, a deadly poison, a precipice, a dream, a reptilian eye, a small fish in the sea of \u200b\u200ba corpse, a loose bone, gauze, a remnant, a syringe that delves into the joint cavities, a trapeze artist who jumps painfully insect inside ...

• POEMS

1

Place a napkin on the neck of the patient,

him on ice,

roll let a few drops to the bottom of his crack with the awkwardness of inconsequential things

with the cunning of those who survived but to do so has required tripping over their own shadows

or choke on his own saliva.

The man's face as if he were still burning within him,

less inflation and could raise

and start dancing with the Orchestra of the complaint.

calls his mother,

man calls his mother

though the call is a noticeable jump in the inside of your eyelid.

Place a napkin on the neck of the patient,

him on the ice, leaving

slip a few drops into the bag,

looking one ear of the patient to

whisper

but forgotten at the very moment

with the awkwardness of inconsequential things,

-human that is so disgusting and spits.

again bring his lips to kiss, starts

lobe of patients with teeth,

word you miss it,

the word always was a missing piece,

paralysis between the fingers.

moans, as if not enough with the orchestra of the ill,

as if it were not enough to silence the patient invertebrate.

Will they cry if

or just be a survival strategy,

or

a painless way to shame?

2

In the third movement instead of dying or swallow ,

fires its violence

is incomprehensible fragments of it yet.

false movements are inveterate

routines and ignominy acquire the highest degree of beauty.

In the third movement instead of dying or swallow,

fires its violence

and do not understand why the pain,

several requests, demands and inquisitions I do not understand

although very well understood.

there

several games in which despite shooting, I do not,

no answers that I know them in advance and that is it cheating?

-maybe the issue is no cheating,

mourn But I know why this new way of doing it?;

or just knowing mourn it is a trap.

In the third movement instead of dying or swallow,

fires its violence

and do not understand why the pain.

in fact although eventually die

not understand why the death, deaths,

deaths

tacit deaths

complete

deaths semiconscious,

perennial deaths

which are ...

3

Sadness,

the unshakable sadness,

the stillness of sorrow.

The voice names to the same God who, having lost their dye macabre bursts of laughter from the gap is pronounced

-violin embedded in her flesh "

The noise of the city enters the ventilation duct,

across both rooms,

background music is a collector of green water.

The windows of the house were closed forever,

a fine dust settles on things,

torture machines swinging in

tiny body.

Isadora holding the knife to cut bread,

opens a mouth in the thigh,

little elves possess

penetrating the wound again and again,

the cross whole

no screaming, just a shiver of objects, bottles

annealed in a symphony acid.