against the world

I’m at war
with the world
its shapeless thrust
its violent repose
mutiny
against the world
a disfiguring cause
tingling morphing touch
a vengeance
a lone modicum of timelessness
fueled by: laughter
for all that exists
within and without
carried by an ant
on a sole journey of gust
rising lighter holier
this is war
against the irreconcilable meaning
against the backside of the world
against the frailty of a second
against the ineffable fringe
against the possibility
against the echoing madness
I’m all fury and decay
bringing down the world
from the heights of its
assumption.

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

capullo de piel

poesia moderna pablo saborio
Hoy asumo
la vida es dulce
no me fijé
más que por una milésima
en lo que sucedía
afuera
pero en esa fracción de segundo
miré al cielo
le robé al día
un capullo de piel
y en él
encontré
todos los acontecimientos
palpitando
hasta el final de los tiempos
absolutamente todos
como luciérnagas
levitando
en un campo silvestre.

 

 

Poesía Moderna

A CHILDREN’S POEM: THE WORM

nihilistic doom

 

 

Feeding the worm
that lives inside
having stuffed it with thoughts
ideals, systems of philosophy,
eschatological speculations,
until it grew so large
to eclipse the sun, the moon,
the mountains, the town, the cars,
the flowers and the dirt
it grew beyond measure
did it deserve to be feed
the pie of beauty
the pudding of truth –
this worm has left
my body and took with it
all my emotions and desires
it roams freely
children point their little yellow fingers
insatiable it has begun to devour
the arts, the sciences, religions, presidents, continents
even the élan vital of destiny: chance
the universe is its next craving
but it will not stop there
it is hungry for infinity
for the coarse meat of eternity
and ultimately the crust of nothingness
that encompasses all of reality itself;
this children’s poem
will too be eaten
to remain inside the primeval gut of the worm
shifting forms buried under undigested elements
earth wind fire water shadows constellations
everything revolves in the undifferentiated ooze
the words of this poem
will be so far apart of each other
there’ll be layers of love sorrow ecstasy
tears silence in between them

children
nothing will survive

because the worm
will eat itself
one day.

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry

now that the earth

Now that the entire world
has retreated to a thaw
now that from a rooftop
I see a raw galaxy dangling
from the beak of a bird
now that the earth
is a great rippling mantle
like a set of loose hair in a golden head
now that the entire world
as soft and pliable as moist leaf of tobacco
now that the planet is flotsam
drifting in the viscous current of sensation

now
we can sleep
in its academy of colors
now
we immerse our heads
in the surrounding cradling
dream

Nihilistic Poetry

table

We are table
glass on the table
glass ejaculating shadow
on the table
and light on the table
light that rises like smoke
from the table
smoke leaving the cigarette butt
that had died on the table
mist ascending from the table
to the light bulb
reaching the spark
that illumined the table
the judgment
the judgment upon table
we are all but the table
the lonely wisp of nothingness
that our table bears
like skin and vein
that remain on the table
we are this
cold and narrow
edge of table.

Nihilistic Poetry

of consciousness

parcel_of_consciousness1

peeling off the whiteness
of stream
of consciousness

washing it
with the sterile lore
of silence

preserving its restlessness
in the hermetic jar
of time

feeding it the shadow
of leaves

the crumbs of wind
that I find

warming it
with the thick songs
of essence

talking to it
with the vowels
of night and day

loving it
despite
the shapeless ache
it leaves in my
heart

Nihilistic Poetry

encuéntrame

encuéntrame
sin aire
en una cláusula de mármol
con la luz amarrada
en los hierros amargos del alma
encuéntrame
en el seno de un portal
comiendo la raíz de la nube
mamando una gota
¿del corazón?
¿del rincón morado de un poema?
con esta lengua
como miel sobre la totalidad
encuéntrame
en el bochorno irreducible del deseo
dibujando círculos
sobre la jaula de la percepción
ahí
encuéntrame
sin remedio
clavando palabras
como besos
en los labios de una noche

encuéntrame

Poesía Moderna

all day inside

All day
within blank

withdrawn
nothing but the hard
pillows of my thoughts

dead past
hauled by brittle filaments
of memory

the vast tomorrow
so enormous
it’s still uncertain
whether its obese fingers
can fit in my door
and carry me away
into its dark irresolute
secret

a window is opened
a whiff of essential black fate

I’ll sleep with a key over my chest
as if the heart can open its vault

to love
vis-à-vis
the engine
of the unknown

Nihilistic Poetry

esperando el turno

Poesia Existencial

La gente muere.
Esperamos nuestro turno.
Seguimos hablando
haciendo grandes gestos
con nuestras manos,
escuchamos un suspiro de música
cuando cruzamos una transitada vía,
comemos un poco de pan
y vemos un reflejo de sol
en la ventana enfrente,
reímos y los labios
contienen un absurdo deseo
por las tetas y los penes,
en una tarde cualquiera
una hormiga cruza nuestra mesa
en una tarde cualquiera
una gaviota cruza nuestro cielo,
leemos los minutos de un poema
volteamos la cabeza y nos entra
un cansancio profundo
nos dejamos caer como si
cien ángeles de negro rubí
nos sostuvieran en el abismo del sueño.
Son de repente las 8am, hacemos el café.
La gente muerte,
esperamos nuestro turno.

Poesía Moderna