I saw a sun today
it was like a specter
belonging to unsolvable fiction,
it had a wide abyss
as a mouth
made of the purest light;
the naked trees
as deadly as knives
daggers defending the earth
from the intrusion of the sky,
it was worship
in the eyes, veiled by sight, bathed in perception,
drenched in mind;
it was like my whole life
was meant to be scorched
by this sun
and I would fail at everything
hereafter
except this rhapsody of
surrender.
I kept
the elements tightly
together
coated by the universe
of my skin,
in there I live too
throwing in the fire
the logs of life,
waiting for the blaze
to engulf all nature
and allow me a glimpse
of some bliss
at the other end
of
living.
finality
run by a strength
gathering in every bouquet of fire
that my lungs take in
in the crushed earth of my heart
with the noisy smoke of the blood
running stronger still
digesting the night as the sweetest charcoal
drunk with fire, hot demise
swimming in the lurid steam of desire
making love under the encroaching moon of suffering
the hand sloughing the disease of touch
the temptation to feel,
my goodness,
the strength that has gathered
spewing boulders as wild bullets of despair
impossible to even begin telling
about the layers and the failed anchors,
such force
is a miracle of the body
an outcome of the rocks and veins
a mistake of the mind;
finally
nothing can be revoked
it was history
excoriating those
words
their skin of wood and soft metal
it is war
that has arrested the direction
of the winds
it began when red mouths
served as riverbed
to a stone law
it was in a dark month
that a saint
stretched the shadow of the spirit
it is your strange voice
that coils an audible mystery
round all the things
that are yet to come.
I have tread many countries
but the distances that
have furrowed
my brow
have been traveled
along the course of a spiral
leading my wandering thought
I am intent on killing the air
merely by breathing in it
rending asunder
the many horizons
that lead us back
to this
moment
I have placed an ear
on the gravid belly of sadness
a heartbeat of melancholy
has spawned in me
eyes
a finger has severed
the surface of the water
the cold ripple
is my only
faith
I cracked open my skull
slid my hand
in its cup
by the raw emptiness
of this touch
I was delivered
.
I walked alone b/c
the streets were attempting
to be white
I’m all sorts of blues
so what a contrast that was,
when I found the open boulevard
imitating a mouth or lights
exactly like my sparkling daze-hood,
the shadows were falling everywhere
like broken pieces of love,
I could hear cars, reminding me
that I’m nothing but a drive;
I was hoping for a journey but found
myself crushing little roads of silence
blinking sadly,
remonstrating:
am i the only poet out here
tonight?
something set me loose
abrupt and cryptic
sailing in a medium
that infuriates me
headway headway
progress is like a precipice
i knew about the rocks
long before my pessimism
took over
corroding the oars
my bores
counted like stars
yawning as naturally as breathing
boat body bodhisattva
drowning in the air
sinking in the blood
world me (mindless) me world
nothing is so big and cavernous
so ingrained
in occult emptiness
within the rising steam
of hot silence
the anchor
the destiny
simultaneously my hunger
the greasy milk of the sea
fattening the grand course of solitude
scraping against the seabed
slowing the haste
the waste
a motion brave and stupid
pushing me like a vessel
of filament
farther further away
from the goal of existence:
stillness
cold descended
I believe in it
feel like I need it
surrounding me like icy mesocarp
preserving me small
and latent inside
like a rugged seed
of rage.
If I could do something
with this mess inside
do something similar to what snow
does to the argentine sky
constellating it with the falling
flakes of a weeping
chaos
I would be swarming
with zigzags of pleasure
and pain
collapsing under the weight
of
chance
then whatever remains
would melt
find the lowest cavity
of my dirty soul
and stagnate,
quietly
so quietly
dying
down
there.
It feels good
not being an artist
no language to impress
philosophical thoughts on cheese
a bit guilty of the next beer
depleting bank account
it feels good
to walk on snow
so crisp and pure
drinking the next beer
getting drunk
and all the rest
it feels good
to see the snow
fall
my cold breath
dunking beers
and all the rest
if feels good
to have left Berlin
now just a town drunk
not even a
punk
Beyond Language 
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