Tomás Modesto Galán. Dominican writer, professor and cultural activist. He has lived in New York since 1986. In 2015 he was named poet of the year by The Americas Poetry Festival of New York. Galán holds a Master's degree from Universidad Autónoma de Santo Domingo and has been a Professor of Spanish and other subjects at the U.A.S.D. In New York, he works at CUNY and Pace University. Currently, I teach at York College. His poetry collection Love on a bicycle earned him the X Prize Ultramar lyrics in 2015. Some of his published books are: The Children of Mount Eden (short stories, 1998) (poetry, 1988), Subway (poetry, 2008), and The Tales of Mount Hope (2nd ed.
Love on a bicycle
The torment sells eyes to the condemned of pleasure, lovers provide clavicles, migraines, the night unravels an orphanage, incriminates the other side of the emptiness.
Daily pins fall on its clarity, smoke bombs,
Incense. A bicycle rolls in the afternoon in search of love.
They lost doors, the sun lasts too long, moons take the notebooks, and more stars are summoning the jump, the day of hiding. caresses a decomposed compass.
The effort to destroy us inaugurates tortures, shines its chains, and an emergence of deaf bonfires returns a naked dog and the morning uncoils walking sticks <
Half the reason someone dynamites the silence.More news: Voice of America
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Disappear devouring a piano, drawn by an absurd freedomand that struggle with the light that makes them ragged, rabidly useless.
Love on a bicycle
Torture bandages the eyes of damned pleasure, the lovers provide clavicles, migraines, they do not keep track of time,
the night unearths an orphanage, denounces the other face of emptiness.
Pins fall daily over her clarity, bombs of smoke,
incense. A bicycle circles the afternoon in search of love.
Doors were lost, the sun stays too long, notebooks take moons, More stars return to summon the leap, the journey of hiding ourselves caresses a broken compass.
The determination to self-destruct incites torture, gives light to its chains,
the surge of deaf bonfires returns to naked dog
and the morning loosens canes in order to walk the round,
circling through blind corridors, or children who surround an anxious river.
In the middle of reason, someone explodes the silence.
, negotiated by an absurd freedom and that battle with the light that makes them ragged, rabidly useless.
Today they lost their feet,