Today
why is not important
too listless to find a solution
thoughts my insomniacs
found today a sheltering slumber,
mystery persists –
but only as an unobtrusive undertone to the ordinary;
a tree was all I needed
to feel that something exists in its own right,
a puddle of trapped water enough
to convince me
that the world is not as deep as I imagined.
Stepping-stones on an open fall
my limbs remind me of crying cataracts
the fall is unique
relative to some approaching infinity
all my thoughts are grounded solely on the black stream
an overarching view of decay
some inexplicable love wraps the beauty of my despair
trust? there is an absolute leap of faith
relying less on the Goodness of this destruction
more on the emptiness of my command
whatever remains. An option to abort
a compulsory surrender
that carries this night
as a flavor to life.
my task is very
simple
observation
untroubled
the battle for
satisfaction
is over
I’m resting my head on phenomena
like on the exposed
breast of my lover
open eyes
breathing
allowing the world
to play with itself
I move cloudlike
I think rocklike
keeping record of things
for this lost history of the soul
So this is my
bloodless combat
a fight to death
when I have no flag
behind me to endorse
to glorify
I can sneak up behind time
strangle her
only later to be
grieving that nothing ever happens
I may surround all of matter
near midnight
obliterate it in one bright flash of idealism
only later to regret
that the mind is equally senseless
and then all the personal things
work grudges, love fractures, intoxication cravings, unspoken family sorrows
all those tanks, Morse codes, handheld grenades, isolated trenches
that I must overcome, decipher, throw away, endure
when I still don’t have a flag of purpose
to endorse
to glorify
should the inconceivable happen:
victory
to what homeland should I return
if this war
suddenly comes to an end?
There are things
best left unsaid
lest the great sphinx
of the open mystery
laughs
at my foolishness
she knows
ultimately, life
is like the open sky
and words
are clouds I hold on to
to break my
fall.
A portrait of nothingness –
the tininess in between the worlds
the invisible underlying cup
a blank canvas for the painted universe
absent undisturbed gulf
the sleep that dreams me
while I play hardball
with the junkies of pursuits.
I am drenched in words
like skin that covers my intellect
while sitting here
I do not feel like any word
neither floating nor sinking
in between two nondescript states
perhaps more
plucking my names
human, animal, person, soul, pablo
petals – I exist or I exist not
an empty receptacle
in my hand
or a savory thought
or gone with the wind.
Probably
every day of my life
is an eye
chains of eyes
closing one after another
it’s no wonder
that I feel this weariness
settling in
as
perception
frees me
in
a swelling
proliferating dream.
It was in the disfigured arrangement of thoughts
that I found the elements of art
prompted by the vision
of aging cells reversing into nothingness
sparkles bones disappear
nothingness engraved in being
life feeding from that source
the beautiful ugliness of my thoughts
unfinished – poisoned
myriad of eyes, arms, despairs, trash
tending my lost confused body
on the stillness
of poetic
landscapes.
Failure
was the ace up my sleeve
my get out of jail free card
my existential loophole
having failed
I was out of the race
competing only with the skies
my midget adversary – ambition
too afraid to follow me into the wilderness of the wild
I am free
to make any nook on this earth a cumulous heaven
make a straw bed for my sleep-drunken poems
on any day of my open-ended agenda
to make a living on the question:
is this all real?
Beyond Language 
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