Don’t ever
seep into words
forsake the colors
and phenomenon can rain
towards black, equidistance
to every night
sleep
as the thing-in-itself
within the shadow
of one thought
soon no externals
but the perception as bread
feeding cold stomachs of mind
don’t lay claim to matter, chain
blind domain but instant unity
where space is skin and
bodies bounded as kissing
tongues
I could
have loved
the fire
and hummingbird
little winters
stacked and trembling
my hand
wild and rodent
treading the
earth
but looks like
young time
nothing is nothing
my prayer being
when death comes:
may this consciousness
be that of a stone
stripped of its rock
Ethereal barabingbaraboom
I scream out joyfully for
not having aged a day
this awareness-of-time
of mine
I am the existence of the memory
and if eternity is the hunter
I’ve been deadmeat
forever.
Having crossed the street
leaving behind vapor or vastness
the bulb shines on the pavement
a flat spangled instant
this road to a friend
my friend
whose skin of earth
tightens a delta by the edge of an eye
I see the determination of a tear
gliding by the cheek ,
so early a thought
before it becomes fire,
before the verb
flees as storm.
I remember everything in silence,
like flashes of a dance
inside the cave of shadows.
My friend whose skin of earth
coalesced into the Nile’s delta
we saw the tear fall to earth
like one imperfect meaning
falling into silence.
Haunting
hustling hurrying harrowing hurling – hush.
John, if I knew one, would be right.
Take the marmalade
and spread
it over the bread.
Taste it as
the eyes taste light.
Yes. Simple emptiness,
delicious shine. Buddha sits
in the TV room. The rain clouds.
It is good jam.
Lengua se hinchó
saboreó el orbe
el viento nada como saliva
la voz trémula deja la luz
resbalar sobre su lúbrica piel
cayeron las papilas como manzanas
callaron los pensamientos como campos de trigo
la noche se cerró como una boca
las horas quedaron atrapadas
como granos de arena
entre estos dos labios
secos
to have known the lazy mote
short quivering dust drawing
letters fruits and tongues on invisible air
when these strangers, lovers
and broken loves waiting for the
train see the speck restless,
there and then, the trance of the path
whose swirl is as elementary
ancient as the nakedness of the sky
a speck who deserves as many words
thoughts and aches
as those we touch and hurt
a mote debonair in air
finds its rest gracefully
like drop of grey symphony
at the base of our feet
Tengo que cerrar los ojos
para desenredar la memoria
de la luz.
Son flores de pétalo negro,
brotan debajo de solitarias sombras.
Hay calma en este perfume
de tinieblas.
No confieso saber si el hoyo
del silencio es tan profundo
como el destino de la música.
Me enfrío y siento el universo
evaporarse a una distancia
que ya no toca mi piel.
¿Será la muerte
o una atmósfera
de alas negras batiendo?
Es probable que nunca más
vuelva a abrir los ojos
o más bien, que nunca
los he tenido abiertos.
here is earth
all earth dreaming
this sliver of earth
this earth of maze
a rueful path on earth
all earth divine
hard as cock
as breasts voluptuous
this earth of sex
and dream and pain
here is earth
all earth excelling
in voice and void
this earth like
body drunk
with melody
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