[…] symbol that is reality, reality that turns
into a symbol before the face of death.
HERMANN BROCH
…
…
LIKE bile in the liver blind words hide in themselves. There are
black knots in your tongue. There’s
no hope nor sound.
…
__________________________________________________
IT brushes lichens and bones abandoned to the dew, then it reaches the houses and penetrates in filaments of caustic soda. Later it comes to your hands like a luminous tongue and slips into fatty cells. It bubbles like the softest ants and your hands are immobilized with happiness.
When the sun returns to its bowl of sorrow
you look at your hands abandoned by the light.
…
__________________________________________________
THE SOUND of dawn never enters the penumbra of the ear. Silence lows in hidden vaults and slips over your membranes. Birds whistle and your passion is deaf.
You are no longer you in your ears.
…
__________________________________________________
THEY flee wounded by dawn, they flutter upon the water and their whiteness opens in you: lapwings.
They voyage from the visible to the invisible. Now
there is only winter in the immobile branches.
…
__________________________________________________
THE ORANGE in your hands, its brilliance, is it forever?
Near the water and the knife, an orange in the hollow of eternity?
Fruit of disappearance. Its excess of reality burns between your hands.
…
__________________________________________________
IT SWIMS in your spirit, it pierces arterial gloom, hisses in the white fistula of your heart.
It has neither face nor memory in you
…
__________________________________________________
YOU HEAR the destruction of wood (the blind termites in its veins), you see needles and wardrobes full of shadow.
It is the mortal nap. So much childhood under the eyelids!
Like the sad horsefly of summer, you take from your face, your mother’s black serge. You’re going to
awaken in oblivion.
…
__________________________________________________
YOU SMELL the damp linens, your acids. This remains of you, a living density.
You see the mirror without mercury. It is only glass submerged in shadow and within it is your face. So
are you within yourself.
…
__________________________________________________
THE SOBBING animal licks your skin, you see big infectious numbers and in the extremity of indifference, you turn sleepless, musical, facing the final grief.
They come, stretch
cold sheets over your heart.
…
__________________________________________________
THOSE that are big in your childhood: they smell of bleach and love.
Those that rest in yours, soft in their cartilage, charred.
Those that drop into rectal shadow, those that are cold on the blue grids of eyelids.
…
__________________________________________________
THEY stretch sterile towels, pour liquids on the diseased ivory.
An animal of light swells underneath your skin. Under the cannulae
steel simmers, blue.
…
__________________________________________________
DAWN approaches. Night still covers your wounds.
Now the knives of day arrive. Don’t
undress in the light, close your eyes.
…
__________________________________________________
YOU BURN beneath carnal tunics.
The black suture has not helped:
there is no water in you. All streams flow in a different age
and the purity of the empty glass maddens you.
…
__________________________________________________
SNAKES scream in the cells of air. Intoxication rises from feminine thighs and you put your lips in their liquids.
Seize the flower of agony. Still
there’s moisture in the ashes that you love.
…
__________________________________________________
BLUE oil on your tongue, black seeds in your veins. In the last symbols, you see purity without meaning.
It is the intoxication of old age: light in the light. Alcohol
without hope.
…
__________________________________________________
IT IS his corporeal moan, it is his breathing in hollow rooms.
How much sweetness still weighs upon your lips, in dying!
…
__________________________________________________
HE SUCKS the bile of doves, he groans on scorched roofs and, in the rooms of shadow, he burns in yellow spheres.
You smell his silent urine, you feel
a whisper of fingernails in eternity.
…
__________________________________________________
LOVE weighs upon the physical wood, the past simmers in your heart.
Compassion (mortal rose) still descends into sacred moisture.
…
__________________________________________________
IS IT light this substance that birds traverse?
In the quaking of silica are deposited quartz and splinters polished by vertigo. You feel
the moan of the ocean. Later,
cold of limits.
…
__________________________________________________
IT ENTERS your body and your tiredness is filled with petals. In you happy animals tremble: music on the edge of the abyss.
It is death throes and serenity. You still feel life like a fragrance.
This pleasure without hope, what finally does it mean in you?
Is the music also about to stop?
…