art and time

History is a duel between art and time.
– Will Durant

art_and_time_Poetry_in_21st_century

Allow me
to carve
my strange vision
in your interior

let me turn
your feelings
into marble
shinning inside
my hidden truth

allow me to build
from your essence
the columns
to a new cathedral
where I will sit
to sing my memory

one day I hope
to be remembered
as the artisan that painted
the landscape of your soul
with the aurora of a dream

perhaps
this poem
is already a relic
of our brief encounter
crumbling on your tongue

crumbling like the rock
that was once art
but now becoming dust
for time’s wind.

Contemporary Poetry

distancia

Cuando me detengo
y me fijo atrás,
veo mi pasado
como un reino desbaratado,
soy un rey en exilio,
trepando sobre el muro
de un minuto más,
escapando el motín de años
para llegar a esa mañana
donde el cuerpo se hace
melodía de piel sin sensación;
cruzo una frontera más
para que colinde el viento
con mi pensamiento
y vuelen juntos perdiéndose
en alguna distancia
que ninguna sombra alcanza.

 

 

 

Poesía Nihilista

the sanctuary of breathlessness

I lift one eye
above the rim of shadow
but retreat as a coward
the clouds of amnesia
still billow above
this younger year

I’m lying under the sanctuary
of breathlessness
the moon crosses the sky
like the dew
of a forgotten dawn

that night
was a reign of
untamable fragments

the air steers
its somber fumes
it is still
night out there
where the world
is a collision
of consequences

to brood
is to invent the
shape of expired time

I am hinged
to the pleasure
of forgetting,
my mouth is the grave
where I buried
mystery.

Nihilistic Poetry

cosmology

faint-enormityoflife

 

I see a wall and it is a blink
between two explosions
I contain
the thick blankness of thought
as my only faith;
ergo I cry
and become
shriveled like
the dry pain that
floats like a memory;
I see silence
like a color
like a flame
like a muscle
that bends the stars,
I don’t care
being absorbed
like a wave of frequency,
I must be nothing
glancing at the faint
enormity of life.

 

 

 

tu sombra

destino_amor

Alza la flor que crece
como pulmón de alegría
pues el único rincón es este
donde nos toca coexistir con la sangre;
yo si soy el polvo del adiós
caminando como un deseo
tachado por la luz de las estrellas,
no me queda más que recoger
la basura del tiempo que se acumuló
en tu ombligo,
tu que eres la sombra de una mujer
que majó la felicidad,
ahora cuando termino ebrio con la nostalgia
tragando los suspiros del alma
como si dormir fuera
el color rosado del destino.

 

 

Poesía Nihilista

the

dirty silence

the
yes the
tongue
of night

there
pushing
descending like pulp
crushing like permanence
like, like muscle
totally arriving
like totality
over the pain of
self

ah crushed
so many interactions
blending like the consumptions
of a hungry light

many will disbelieve
and doubt
and question
and reject
and deny

but
yes
the
…
the
night
has a tongue
as long as
eternity

made hungry as
the frail fragile foolish
expanse

isn’t everything like light
sinking to the skin like a
single song

yes begin
swallowing me up
you dirty
silence

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

Pronto callaré

campos de poesia

Pronto

callaré

mis palabras
descansarán
como ramas secas
al pie de la fogata

Pronto

callaré

abandonaré
mis palabras
tendidas en la arena
como héroes
condenados al polvo

Pronto

callaré

quedarán
mis palabras
hambrientas
mordiendo la
luz del sol

Pronto

callaré

cruzaré un puente
y mis palabras
esperarán como ceniza
un viento
que las borre
de la tierra

 

 

Poesía Nihilista

about a poem

noticed how
a poem
stirs the dead
of objects
to flap
like vital wings

how it
splits
the feeling
to a pair
of mirrors

wonder
how the metaphor
is an empty cup
we fill with
suffering & immensity

observe
in a fleeting liaison
the sun waiting in the dark
the dream burning the skin
the blue tasting as salt

have you shattered
a poem
to bathe below
the surface of the flown?

Nihilistic Poetry

campo intrínseco

dibujo del olvido

Deja de espiar
con tu mansa mirada
el grueso fragor
de la luna que yace
cruda en la olla
del cielo

Mira como crece
la aorta con
cada trago de amarillo
el pulmón deja
una sombra de palmera
en el patio del corazón

La mañana la dejamos
encendida como una vela
cuando dormíamos tapados
por meses de azul sudor

Envuelve el borde de
los ojos con la mancha
del viento y volvamos
al campo intrínseco
donde crecen lágrimas
como flores que nadie corta

Seamos tímidos roedores
que gatean sobre el eco
del silencio y dejemos
nuestras huellas como
recuerdos dibujados
sobre el olvido

Poesía Nihilista

somewhere out there

Somewhere out there one may find a horizon. But I do not talk about edges or inventing balconies to oblivion. I drink wine and swallow sensation indefinitely. I believe to be one whirl of smoke that spins upon the axis of habit. Sometimes I peek through windows, as if they were encyclopedias of the beyond. I am a romantic. I go outside and say: I see a single star reflected inside the thick glass of my endless wine. A slow logic eventually wears down the brilliance of the sky; and for nights I camp under a starless proof. But today a pound of purple strikes my tongue. The thickness of a dream goes down my throat. I begin to feel like an atmosphere of veins. Like a slab of fiction that crumbles to illusion.

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry