Author: Pablo Saborio

monkeyhood

Monkeyhood

 

I am observing the world

whose very act of existing

has made us claim

that it is the only world to exist.

 

I am observing

the shadows of the sun

when suddenly the monkey

appears again, opening

that window

below my language.

 

It picks up all my words

and chews them, only to spit

them out while producing

a grotesque sound of pleasure.

 

I’ve seen this monkey many times,

he comes from the world within

that is populated by innumerable monkeys.

 

They all seek the only thing

they claim is real: monkeyhood.

Monkeyhood is hidden

deep in their jungle,

it can be eaten, soft caramel-like

substance that it is.

 

But only a few monkeys are able

to reach this sacred core.

 

The monkeys that visit me

are those that for whatever reason

have stopped seeking monkeyhood.

 

They would rather appear

unannounced in this world,

to taste a few fragments of illusion –

as I believe they once called it.

 

I sit watching the shadows of the sun,

here below the clouds while I describe

the indistinct quality of being alive.

Simplicity

poem_pablo_saborio_2017

 

There is in
my shadow a rock
that seems to be a rose.
This is,
to be brief,
the reality of an appearance.
The field of mist: life.
In it, a hard substance
that imitates the softness of love.
I am spectator and hungry stage.
Everything is busy.
As I am.
Trying, I am trying to be a place
for things to dwell inside me.
I only see the there.
Otherwise to taste nothing
and find it so sweet.
I can look at you, you’re it
that piece of motion that
clings to change.
So am I, besides anything essential.
Here is in that one shadow
a tiny stone we can taste.
Yes, it is really a cloud
without hope of being
like a flower above the sea.

 

 

First Instance of the Void.

the_void
I was born
too dangerously
close to the silence.

My eye made
great effort
to shine above
the stillness.

It was violently
obvious that I could
not carry into
the melody
that peace removes
from the world
of instants
to the next
of eternal observation.

It did not take
much time
however
to wrap my body
with the thickest
and most ephemeral
clouds.

And then
I found the mirror
through which
the core of living
is reflected
like a perfect example
of deep –
truly profound
sleep.

feeling

 

I want to remain
in that feeling.

I injure my boundary
to crack open
the slit
through which
this entirety
can
enter.

Enter
heavily
enter
heavenly
enter
so swollen
with light
that I am
swallowed
by the color
that silence
makes.

No weapons
are
defined
in my claws.

I kiss
behind
the sharpness
of the darkness.

om oh orbit
om oh
owls orbiting
the softness
of my
voice.

Look at
this coil
of art.

Oh when
the tooth
was felt
more rock
than bone.

When a
meadow of rain
was longer
than the minute
of pain.

Have patience
in leaving
the moment.

I have created nothing new.

In the beginning everything was still.
Then there was an itch or ache and totality stirred.
A dance was born.
Wave after wave of color emerged.
Rains of sound were released from the center.
The original impulse became two, trees, fire.
Its unity was broken, reflected from a trillion eyes.
Rhythm appeared as an essential trait.
Pulses emanated, at times violent, at times sad.
Wonder and angst fucking inside the skull’s crater.
A mad civilization rose, structure after structure.
A sea of ideas now saturates the air.
Here we are in this vast corner surrounded by a cosmos.
We are the same as IT.
These pictures are throbs of that primordial energy.
I have created nothing new.