Poetry

hurry

Empty Buddha

Hurry
Spit it out
Cough up the phlegm of phenomena
The chunks of feeling caught between your teeth
The stench of memories
The bleeding gums that dawn, love and despair have corroded
Hurl the amalgam of sensation that never concentrates into meaning
Release a belch from the oozing pit of pain
Hurry
Drool a tiny string of age
Sneeze a jazz sound, a Pollock suspended in air
Spurt out onto napkins the vaulted skies
Sweat the burnt clay of slow and gentle hour
Let it out in trickles or exhalations the muddle and the smoke
Be done hurry become empty
Be empty before the fat feeds the fire
Before the bone becomes abysmal
Be empty – hurry

 

 

Absurd Poetry

THE COLOSSAL FEELING OF BEING NOTHING

A young beast
leaves a footprint
on empty earth

the ears interpret
knives as foliage

in her crotch
a whole balcony of moss

against the black
odor of the stars

a firefly
cannot live a century

the blood sleeps
like hardened wax

something is missing
a shadow
pregnant with noon

a grey whiteness
wounds the heart

and death approaches
in a nude echo.

Nihilistic Poetry

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

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

a posteriori

I left
in the middle
of a cloudless night
as a thief
to snatch one orphan
ray of moonshine
I was drunk
between cathedrals and labyrinths
looking for the crackling
sound of a tiny star
I wandered along this
heaven of dirt
peeking under every shadow
for a trace the hidden
mass of an eclipse
over bridges and blackouts
I followed the scent
of a spiraling infinity
never reaching its end

I awoke
with a black
layer of eternity
as a rag
over my sore
and swollen skin.

Nihilistic Poetry

empty shadow

empty form poem

 

I saw a yellow house
a pillow
and a mother
that would not explain

the wind carried
the stars
like debris
my tongue’s tip
did not catch any

how the sadness
clings onto
the rustle of a leaf

I could describe
with lines and perspectives
the memory that
brought me here

beyond that memory
empty flashes of shadows
and hungry panthers of light

I saw

my hand
touch the world
like a
mirror
reflecting
a dance.

 

 

 

Nihilistic Poetry