sábado, 15 de octubre de 2011

Nieve



He terminado desde-
(de manera disonante o de
alguna u otra manera,
donde la tierra era cálida y blanca
y leche tibia caía entre las grietas;
desde las nubes y de manera magnífica
pero hacia la arena,
sobre legiones)
-el momento en que el Águila
se alimentó del corazón del río,
hacia el desierto,
entre las dunas,
en el año del Tigre.

Quise olvidar todo,
desde el comienzo y a través del siglo,
en el despertar de lo que se percibe
entre la fragilidad de la rosa
o del pétalo (exhausto? distante)
que cae 
con seguridad
hacia Primavera.

Nieve blanca.
La noche es olvidada y he terminado desde 
el momento 
en que el Águila 
se alimentó
del corazón del río.

(desciende)

Nadie lo sabe.

Algunas flores
(supuestamente)
viven para siempre.

Nadie lo sabe.

Terminé distante, 
en el valle que derrama aceite y néctar.

Distante.

Nadie tenía ojos tan cálidos,
ni siquiera el universo,
o el multiverso cercano.







lunes, 10 de octubre de 2011

Prayer In The Sun



I am naive when facing the sun.

I lay down
and I pour the ocean(whole)
into a hole in the sand.

I know the wind is blowing but
happiness is beyond missing.

Please, leave and make things easier.
Leave, don't do it for the sake of the blues but
do it for yourself
or myself selfless gone and lost and buried and left astray empty-handed
heavy-handed

I hear a saint striving to utter the following words, behind his turbant:

"The air is beautiful."

The words are vague, easily unclean and flow directly into the thorns.
I had (or have) much to offer.

Do you care?

Fair enough.
I am a waste,
I run sadly,

I am blocking the sun with a finger.


domingo, 9 de octubre de 2011

Wading Through Harlow's Wilderness, I Forgot The Words As Soon As I Wrote Them


I forgot the words as soon as I wrote them.

"Odette I have discovered within you a rose."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I remember Harlow was long overdue behind cathedrals.
He who really was a sailor back then through wonders.

I have tried to remember.

The white soul of Oswald slipped from the hands of the heavens.
A firmament but, some say a lament.

What did she say to you
that made you crawl through the cliffs?

(Across the cliffs)
At the very heart of the bone of the whale.
She said:
"I exceed your expectations, every one of them."

But I remember she really whispered:
"I refuse to let you calculate your future."

Here we are, all of us.
Defeated.

yet Hooked,
beneath a nuclear sun.


I forgot the words as soon as I wrote them.

miércoles, 5 de octubre de 2011

Sinful Shepherd



It makes a difference,
maybe it is myself but
the words are made of
roses,
are they made of ashes (rather)?
that, a blunt stab into Solomon's darkness
being raw the flesh and cold the river.
I let him.

I let him wear me out
as a shepherd with the body and the oil
and the face, holy.
Which is the sky that rains?
I am in denial through the doom
it is "we" that I want.

Two neglected sons,
up in the mount.
I have bathed in the river,
seven times eleven times and I'm sinful and I'm wading.

And I love you again,
I love you immensely past ancient book(s)
past silver skies
past the green pastures of soulful RIGHTEOUSNESS
in
FI
GU
RA
TI
VE
love,
spoken love.

Forever I dwell inside of you,
on Minerva's Garden my cup overflows

A solemn shadown,
an absurd shadow,
an open branch.

I do not know who I am.
I kiss your memory through fifty seven centuries,
careful arms, again wading.

Ambigous shepherd I will become.




lunes, 3 de octubre de 2011

Firenze


Vanilla dust scrapes the creamy surface.

I guess I'm still searching,
above thousands, white-headed.

The land oils the hands that work the harvest under a heavy sun,
but the eagle sets off.
Barely elsewhere.
On-his-own.

Do I find you here?
I am stirring the sun.
I AM STIRRING THE SUN.
I AM STIRRING THE SUN.
I blend
with a
gloomy
sun.

What is a human?
When is enough?

I am stirring the sun.
Heart-stirring the sun.
Perhaps it is me the one I should find first.

The yellow of the sun,
not to be confused with betrayal: the eagle bursted. (off).

A breeze stirred the leaves.
I can't help but wonder...

Somehow elsewhere I might find me.
What is that, I don't know.

What do I feel
Sun, I didn't feel.
A dull leaf that stirred with the wind got lost and flew,
from beginning to end
above white-headed
calves down
Treasures inland...
The knees fell as the sword hit the ground.
Sadness inland, the kingdom I thought I could call my own vanished.

I am scared and lonely.