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Nº 56. THURSDAY, JUNE 21TH ,2001




Indio Gris




 Today is Sunday, 8.30 in the morning. The question of the sections represents, if not exactly, more work, at least a certain order, a certain discipline.

 If I have to say some truth so early on a Sunday morning, I can say that Cero Group Editorial, in the Madrid Book Fair broke all prior achievements, its own and others', becoming the Editorial which sold more  poetry books in the Fair (everything legal, with the presence of the Notary) and, now we are happy for two reasons: 1- Because we are the most read poets in Spain. 2- Because in spite of being the most read poets in two continents, considering that the same happens to us in Argentina, we continue being unknown for the official press. Read it correctly, official press means all the supplements of the most important newspapers (only because of their circulation) joined in an indissoluble way with editors more powerful than ours. And that isn't the most important thing because sooner or later we too will be a powerful editorial; the worst is that we don't like how they write, we don't like them to spend all weeks slandering Poetry, when they were never able to write a verse.

 Only a few minutes have passed and I have already reached my second truth. Yesterday, Saturday evening, we held a party, we read poetry, we had one or two glasses of Spanish wine (Ribera del Duero, 95 vintage), we embraced and cried, as is fit when people succeed, all together at the same time, in the same instant, and afterwards the poetry of the young breaking all moulds, demonstrated materially and historically that years had gone by.

 In the pages of Cero Group School of Poetry two poems are published daily, one published previously and the other one, unpublished, both  belonging to members of the Poetry Workshops. this is also advertising, a sort of first quality social service without charge so that citizens can  check by themselves the existence of beauty.

menassa recites


 I have searched, stubbornly,
a step forward
and I could find nothing.
I have tried, cunningly,
to fall from the heights
and got nothing.
I have travelled, crazily,
through impossible streets,
without finding the sky.
I have left, slowly,
all that was beloved
and all that was beloved
is within me.

Always in the same place,
faraway and quiet,
looking at the stars,
always against myself,
paralysed by terror,
without finding desire.
Without anyone to tear off
dark bandages
from my eyes without light.
Always hidden in my own heart,
without ways out,
without love.

I leave footprints of my steps
and I declare myself free.
I want no longer to fall,
nor do I search for impossible skies,
nor excited lights,
nor steps forward which,
will alleviate my pain or my sadness.

In full freedom,
retired from human whims.
as if they were eternal symptoms,
my great loves
to sleep with me this nap of the soul,
to live, with me, this pain.

Madrid, March 23rd, 1977

 I admit, darling, I ask your forgiveness for the
words that have upset your sensibility.

 I admit having been wrong with you.
       Ora pro nobis, my lady!
                                              Love exists!

My writing is mortal, it lives in your body.
The last entrails of reason between my teeth.
                                                                             I LOVE YOU.
I pierce your body,
I look for the final taste between your buttocks,
the barrier of hatred.

Where are the suicides?
Let them come to me, beloved.
Where is the blood of the lovers?
Where is hell?

Love doesn't exist, darling,
it is about knowing.
I am the queen of kindness,
wrap me in your cloak, kiss my rings, look at me.
Hours of withdrawal into oneself, darling,
It's necessary for death not to be a surprise,
sleep between my legs.
It is necessary to multiply the flesh and the flaws,
words are carried away by the wind.
                   my only desire,
                                               to bear your child.  

A diamond in the entrails of the ferocious beast,
of the sad cow.
A breath of immortality for my body.

Fourth dimension exists, darling,
let's run away from the world,
let's have our love nest,
where everyone with everyone,
for the Lord to love beauty.
Complete metamorphosis,
for the Lord to love beauty.

I am all of them,
I am the polar wind
and the rainbow of nuptial dreams.
My sex is perfect
chance made it clandestine.
chance made it yours,
                                         die in it.

 Madrid, March 23rd, 1977, in the afternoon

  The morning encounter was disastrous.

A month, time enough
to twist my destiny once more.
For you to mix up my writing definitely.
To stain all combinations with blood without mercy.

I drill rocks,
I desperately search for another destiny for men.
The desert
                            the mutilation of encounters,
are two ways of life in which I'm not interested.
Too much passion.

She arrives and I show her that I have written some pages in the notebook she forgot yesterday. I tell her that I have begun to write her clinical record. She goes to pee, comes back, starts to roll a pot cigarette and says:

- Be careful because today I have no makeup.

 - More than literature she is air. Today, for example, it took us twenty minutes for her to lie down on the couch.

 - I'm thinking of that woman. How she impacted on me! She had an unreal body, as if she were a ghost, a supernatural woman, especially her eyes. In front of this vision is where the mechanisms of envy and despise unfolded, and I immediately said to myself: what happens is that this woman is a drug addict. And I began to look at other women who don't know what to do with their body, they are crooked,  characters that turned me completely mad. With one of them I delighted myself in ugly mirrors, I saw him as a thief of ideas belonging to others. I judged severely, so much that I came to think that if you wanted to save me you would have be a god. And if I caused few problems it was thanks to thinking all the time that you were God, this idea supported me. It seems strange, but it is so. The problem is that contradictory ideas can co-exist in me, for example: today I see you as a God and I extend you a God-card, tomorrow I see you as a Demon and I extend you a Demon-card.

 I live in a very odd way. (When I hand these writings to be read I'll say: try to recognise yourself, it'll do you good, but don't feel yourself identified, you are not the only one.)

 This morning I was thinking in this sort of barrier, this fear of madness, of the other one… it's a fear of a subdued woman.

 If I'd decide to have faith in something, perhaps I'd do better. I generally live with my body in pain.

 (I wanted to tell her that she did nothing during the whole day, that was why her body hurt, but I said nothing to her.)

 There is a part of me very worried about the body. Here, I spoke little of the body. A rebelliousness against you, psychoanalysts. Everything hurts.

 (In a low voice I thought: why doesn't she free herself?)

 It irritates me to find myself, all of a sudden, in these modern things.

 (Psychoanalysis, for example.)

 Yes a certain type of Psychoanalysis.

 ( Yours).

 No, I'm in love with my Psychoanalysis, that's why it enervates me that you may think I should liberate myself, because I think that you want me to free myself from you and this, I tell you, doctor, because I know myself, hasn't yet begun.

 (Submit yourself).

 She laughs as if she had listened to me, she asks me if she can  undress and starts to do so. Shoes. Blouse. Skirt.

 - This underwear is orthopaedic (referring to the bra), it makes you feel your breasts the whole day. I have a childlike breast and, now, I'm very cold. For sure, the central heating is not even working here.

 -  Do you hear me? With so much noise that the wind produces, I have the sensation that I should shout for you to listen to me.

 - You feel that your naked body hasn't drawn enough attention in me…

 - You realised  that my body wasn't well at all and that's precisely why it drew your attention. I have red spots everywhere. In the front, in  the rear, I have red spots everywhere. Of various sizes too, a huge one here, on my ass and other smaller ones everywhere and some of them look like small bumps. To look at one's body sometimes isn't at all as one may feel it. Of course, now I don't know if I'm looking at my body, or if  what I'm only doing with my body is showing it to you.

 She laughs loudly as if she were really happy.

 - I wasn't like this before.

 The small sun gets through the window mercilessly.

 - Before, I showed myself naturally. I used to masturbate naturally. Now I feel a clearly childish sensation, I intensely recall a two-coloured word, green and blood-like, do you realise? What happens is that I love to undress and this is something that almost can't be done without unleashing a scandal, without causing strange passions.

 The sun fades and appears again several times.

 While she got dressed, I went to the bathroom and then to the kitchen, just because, to leave her alone. When she finished putting on her shoes, I kissed her forehead and we said good-bye, we'll see again.

Cero Group Consulting Room

Cero Group Consulting Room

Amelia Díez Cuesta

Carlos Fernández

Appointments:  91 402 61 93
Móvil: 607 76 21 04


91 883 02 13


   I walked out of the porch and, with quick steps, I headed towards Princesa corner to take a taxi.

   I was filled with a pleasant sensation of unreality, I felt like a character from some novel or even from a comic, going back to headquarters after fulfilling a difficult mission, secret of course.

 To make the events of the last two hours coincide with my life was almost impossible, unbelievable from all points of view.

 But the evidence: my smile of supernatural peace, couldn't be denied, not even I could ignore it.

 Suddenly, in the midst of the quietness of the afternoon, he told me:

 - Shall we fuck her?

 - I don't know if I'm prepared.

 While I answered him with that stupid phrase, I felt that I had fallen in a trap, I had committed a beginner's error: I had challenged him.

 Now, I didn't have no other alternative but to breathe deeply, hide the tremor of my legs and face the storm in a way as dignified as possible.

 She came back and sat by my side. I thought, in that moment, if he had told her the same thing he had told me:

 - Hey, shall we fuck her?

 From that moment on, the order of the events was very confusing.

 I recall her open pussy before me, like an immense sea, enraged by the fierceness of love. 

 Open sea, now, also for me.

 I plunged in the deepness of that inaugural womb, trailing with my tongue the scent of your beloved sex and she, among moans like cries for freedom and murmurs and caresses and…

 Yes. Yes. Go on. Yes. Go on.

 Words with which she guided my steps towards your heart.

 You appeared every now and then, somewhat absent-minded and asked:

 - How are my untamable little whores?

 Then she would throw herself over your huge dick and sucked all and swallowed all and she would hold your balls, while telling me with her gaze:

 - Come, he can be your man too.

 I must confess that fear paralysed me. Fear detains my hands, floods my head. Fear of recognising that brutal pleasure among three.

 I open my legs to the voracity of that desire and she took advantage to put in completely your beloved dick and we both sailed over your enormous marine dick, in an incredible dance directed by the movement of her desire.

 I lost all notion of time and space. Paradise coincided with the limits of that bed, where one more chapter of the history of love was being written.

 - I know that important things don't leave trace, he said to me rapidly, and looking around me I see traces all over the place.

 If I would really get to investigate, I would realise that the people that surround me don't do many important things.

 I never really know if I'm surrounded by fools or intelligent people.

 It seems to me unreal that at my age I ask myself that, but I do so:

 - Am I a genius or directly a fool?

 - You are a genius, my love, you are a genius, he said without doubting.

What do you think?

Pornography   or     Eroticism

Cero Group Consulting Room


Miguel Martínez Fondón

Coordinator: Miguel Oscar Menassa

APPOINTMENTS: 91 682 18 95

91 542 33 49  (MADRID)



                                                 El País, Saturday June 18th, 2001

We praise Maximo's optimism as all ministries need Psychoanalysis, even the Ministry of Culture.

El País, Saturday, June 18th, 2001

 Aerolíneas Argentinas warns it will suspend payments on Thursday if unions don't give in

And if someone breaks, may the next one pass.

       El País, Saturday, June 16th, 2001

France and Germany block the calendar of growth of the European Union

But Spain is doing well.

El País, Saturday, June 16th, 2001

The living thought of Orwell
 Four volumes with George Orwell essays, the writer who captured the essence of totalitarianism and foresaw the future, are published in the United States.

 USA publishes a book, where it is taught to world-wide citizens how to tolerate dictatorships when they come from the American democracy, and we don't even mention the Saturday's poem.

 El País, Saturday, June 16th, 2001

The Bank of Spain demands reforms in the work market

Quick dismissal, sex in solitude or with the wife or with the boss; assured illness, cheap burial. But Spain is doing well.

El País, Saturday, June 16th, 2001

Argentina is not in conditions of taking charge of the company

Of nobody.

El País, Saturday, june 16th, 2001 

 The European Council criticises the scarce autonomy of the general prosecutor of Spain

And the prosecutor answered: To friends a hand; to enemies the law.

El País, Saturday, June 16th, 2001

 European Union Summit:
 The Fifteen try to avoid the antimissile shield to unleash an arms race

But Spain is doing well.

El País, Saturday, June 16th, 2001

 Bush tour
Bush asks that all European democracies
join the European Union and NATO

And promised that if they let him play Star War freely, he will end up shouting:  Hail Europe!


Indio Gris