The poet that charms the people aka the mayor of Sayulita
Imagine waking up in the morning, crawling out of your bunkbed way too early - 7 am - and trying to find your way through the dimness of your room, not waking anybody up while appreciating your jetlag, that made you wake up so early, to start the day. Opening the door and already seeing someone sitting out in a chair, relaxed, smiling at you and catching you with his aura. Enjoying a coffee out of his beloved french press, reading an article about an interview with one of his favorite poets, taking some notes, catching his thoughts, or working on his latest own poem. This is Amadeus, an early bird, catching some waves in the morning with his board and starting the day after as described. Being impressed with his poetry and eloquence, I wanted to give him a stage to share some thoughts and one of his poems here. So please, enjoy and follow him on Instagram:
My thoughts on this place
My fragmented mind is bound together by an immediate perception. I take in the palms, street dogs, muddy cobbles. They bear witness as some sort of extension of this land, integrating. Born of discord and wonder, some tremendous inner propulsion endeared by the noise of birds. The time now approaches for disjointed abstractions passing for so-called poetry to be shared with the new dear faces with which I’ve become acquainted. Children hear me. Our lives have been gongs clamoring and boasting blows landing on the nape of the neck in this oceanic storehouse of possibility. Buenos Dias.
Logging in Sayulita
How to spread a net toward the invisible to strengthen this paddling arm. Have I been too honest to those remaining without speaking before me I pull past a collapsing wave. Barely moving the water and exploring the vague similarities interweaving the sky – hello cataract pelican maneuvering these shoulders white as his underbelly meant to appear as sky the bait fish might thank for sewage – fishing. Others here have something to say out of earshot. I pause at the word “earshot.” Meanwhile the near naked girl’s unloved eye rests on the brine, managing as thin as light on water. The board’s edge provokes it. Vertebra by vertebra hurling myself, and thus this crossing step. My image is carved out of groans. Of what innocence can those onshore speak? Stained splendor in conceited brilliance as girls left to separate weeds from salad greens and their mothers drive the harvest while fathers lie sick was and is still a good way to learn. Nomadic by declaration and calculation. I don’t see it. What if poison was edible, what if a salad was sprayed by poison and they don’t realize it and much less care? Who would learn today from that? Shake your head separating vanity from the inevitable opportunity for growth. No I don’t have more tummy vitamins for you. Watery memory silences. Bow before the surprise. Breathe out the diffuse air. Recover the happy void of black. To whom does this plea speak? Diminutive dawn’s wet sand driving night’s texture. A source beneath the surface. Protected by what? Open to me, the sky and thus drops the night. Still tried of multitudes, the indelible crush of waves, of unknown bacteria festering in a fresh juice’s ice. Gusts of wind and vomit fever will return. It is counted on from another time. Herds and other types of herds, all without faces. The next morning’s light waits. There is nothing settled in this universe.
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