I see a wall and it is a blink
between two explosions
I contain
the thick blankness of thought
as my only faith;
ergo I cry
and become
shriveled like
the dry pain that
floats like a memory;
I see silence
like a color
like a flame
like a muscle
that bends the stars,
I don’t care
being absorbed
like a wave of frequency,
I must be nothing
glancing at the faint
enormity of life.
so much
to tear a song
from artery
and replace the
heart for a warmer
stone
a rivulet of memory
without ultimate value
a field where
the truth bends
as incense
when sleep
is a crumb
of eternity
an immense
solitude
in darkness
souls in flakes perhaps
sore of flight
come to alight
in strange dances of silence
what fever
by which the stars
seem like children
dim against the
thickness of the world
then I found myself
stepping on the mushy
nodes of matter
first cobblestones
then grass
finally the helical
steps of a cloud
it was no longer
vague intuition
but pure palpable
fact :
this is a dream
the arc of night
laid its arm
round my shoulder
both my eyes
puckered
to buss the black sky
there was love
dark and murmuring
my heart drunk
on the delirious flavor
of the stars
the straws of space
nested my body
and fell asleep
while the cars below
flashed in gushing fleets
On a camel
deeper Morocco
sunset soon
near Sahara
there I started
to feel again,
the beautiful earth
turning in the dream of night;
the stars sailing my mind
all the stars
stars.
staring at the opposite end
of time
in a tent
Berber land
sun gone
near the mighty Sahara.
The day begins
has it?
already night
the stars squash me
with their colossal laughter
is it funny or cruel?
hopelessness is my cue
I’m a colonial boy
with imperial regrets
I have stepped onto cities
that once existed, oh history
I – is a word
the most engrossing word
for the conscious beast
I am impossible
and all the rest
I step onto a stone or an abyss
which?
is still undecided
The days have expired
if I was once a shadow
now I am smoke
tomorrow?
perhaps the empty pause
between two despairs
the sky is black tar
my distant vault
stained by the vapor
of every perspired minute
I made my hands cups
the recipients of beauty
but it would not rain
clear skies with
excess of stars
dizzied by this overhead
backdrop
I made up posthumous names
for my fetus hands
tomorrow?
a lie
a song
a purposeless
flight.
Everything you do
begins with a silence
you can traverse
the distances
that keep you away
from the divine
but you look back
and the starting point
is blurred
I have been pilgrimage
traveled far,
but
in relation to what?
all is opinion
the poet is a collector
of fragments
the pieces of modernity
scattered mercilessly
over the ruins of decay
the theory emerges
the broken data
a human heart
halfway down the
spear
I threw to infinity
an attempt to coexist
with the rational
and the irrational
landscapes of words
not yet
conceived
I give you the stars
for the constellations
you’ll hang
over the lake
of your
core.
Beyond Language 
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