Perhaps a sea rushed a ship, or fell upon some islands.
Maybe rain whipped a sea
so birds, rivers, music and a bound heart
disappeared in the water.
Perhaps a man dropped to his knees on the beach,
called upon a vanishing goddess,
prayed to the god of water and blue,
for the crescent of fire to part his timid tears,
for his bent smile to recede.
And if one staying up in darkness
sees but islands of firewood,
images of flames,
it is either a disaster or a sheathed heart.
Let us travel through it.
Let us ring glass against glass,
strike the eye with an awl,
mouth with a fallacious mouth
heart to heart:
before we journey in the morning
on the road to the abyss!
On air you sailed, without a sound.
And, like a peacock, from sorrow I travel.
To the world you go.
Toward the desert I move.
Brilliant star, where did you come to?
I had concealed you in my heart,
but you emerged,
filled the black beach with radiance,
and the gulf of love with death.
And... you were gone:
Leave before the rooster crows,
or else if the wind came calling,
I’d rip the door and the altar,
tear the veil now off prophecies’ secrets,
denounce The Savior, The Caretaker,
Lord of Evil, human nature and divinity,
deny my peace and my clergy,
and on the crossroads of death
You, who is coming to me in what has passed,
drowning in what is yet to come,
you leaned on me.
If I had leaned on a thing, no, it was not you.
If you had leaned on a thing, it was not
but my shoulder and my honor.
Give me your hands!
I am the one standing in past and present.
I am the specter, the wise man and the barefooted.
And I am.. the destiny of a future taking flight
from all of spirit’s dimensions.
I divine my healing with my own hands,
so rebuke me at the instigations of affection.
Go ahead, pull this shroud off my tomb,
and consider me one of candor’s soldiers
budding around you, or around me.
I had become naked with no twigs, no leaves
about me except... time!
How you overtook my life since
this nook on the beach became mine.
The waves started taking me to the past,
and running me to a future drowned in mud.
Colors no longer notice of me.
I bleed this wind sailing the ship, and me
toward stars’ culminations.
[All ancient galaxies tired of my poet companions’ fancies
the day they rebelled, and each got on his cross
and cried in the hands of the Grand Mistress of Poetry!]
I did not miss the great death scene.
Sadness did not seek me.
I was at the top of my passion
beseeching my lover!!
Dizziness... Then the uneasy preoccupation
with conversations of the able body?
as long as this expansive emptiness separates us,
as long as you don’t embrace us with your love,
as long you do not visit
and there is no passage toward your lush land,
are you counted with the dead or the living?
Cross that isthmus
and fill our homestead with honeybees.
Our spirit becomes bountiful when it sees you?
I glimpse only you.
What is left is only a handful of wheat in your fields:
In the wafting of musk and sweetened tar,
here I am alone, and seeing you!