Having Penis Examined By Lady Doctor

Eighty years after the passer Notebook

Three fragments the Preface to Index new American poetry, originally published in Buenos Aires in 1926 and reissued in Lima in 2007 by the antiquarian bookshop South, belonging to the Viceroy, whose recent crisis surely widen the black legend of this and other anthologies. The new edition includes a foreword by Mirko Lauer and a culmination of Mario Montalbetti.

I leave here killed distances. You can go far in a few minutes from the corner of Esmeralda and Corrientes in Buenos Aires, up the street from Magnolia, in Mexico. But do not think that this is a contribution to the rapprochement of the countries whose exploitation ago Spain lost its years old. I have haste to declare that the Hispano disgusts me. That is a false thing, utopian and mendacious converted, how could it be otherwise in a profession identical to any other. It is hispanoamericanismo as a doctor or businessman. I know of only one of those parásitosque exercise their profession without interest, or so it was just sly. HIDALGO Alberto II No route exclusively, or a poem skeptical herself. then? Look good. In my verses scattered thrills without guitar and without anxiety, the thing conceived the poem away, steal the snow to the pole and the pipe to the ocean. Some days later I realized that the pole was a pearl for my tie. What browsers? Converts poets sang standing in the waves poured. And the poets? become explorers looking glass into the throat of the nightingale. Vicente Huidobro III An ancient storyteller whose name I do not remember (that Cervantes is celebrated prudery and return it immediately) that in the early Christian era sea came a great voice , a primitive and final gospel, and announced to the pagan god Pan who was dead. I like to assume that both the elementary things participate in the soul and are the chasques or lenguaraces or nuncios, now would tell everyone in the voice of the sea salt and tireless buried rivers and wells and puddles ecstatic to tell you that was spent the Ruben at last, thank God! Jorge Luis Borges

1926 2007