mandatos del deseo

Dos Luces en Noche

Quiero sentir

la tierra como un tatuaje rojo
rompiendo mis venas
hasta tocar el hueso de la existencia

quiero sentir

la piel mojada del cielo
sembrar la ciudad del siglo 21
en una antología de orgasmos

quiero sentir

la sal de una huida
cuando el sudor de convicto
nace seco en una cara sin oasis

quiero sentir

dos luces en amarillo
en el hiato de una noche
mientas leo la biblia de un silencio

 

poesía siglo XXI

Isolation

 

 

Isolation.

Breathtaking isolating metaphysical estrangement. I am the voice of a prison, an oasis of consciousness locked up in a bottle that is floating on an ocean of beautiful nothingness. There is nothing but myself. But “myself” isn’t human. Consciousness is the moment of absolute silence before sneezing. We are the void that is never heard, we are the undercurrent of a stream that can never rise to the surface; we are motion without name. The unreality of it is not a punishment – it is a promise that nothing – nothing can condemn us to eternal misery. Every pain is a thorn, every joy is a petal: but there is no rose to eternalize them. Life is a dream that will never surrender the mist of its illusion.

We are a particle in that dancing mist,

                         flashing in the light of time,

                                   vanishing in the darkness of boundless sleep.