LIMIT(S)

Whitish pupil of emptiness, the mind's 
liqueur. Love. I don't approach lands of everything 
appeasing the fate of cohorts and flags. 
Like a dog I beg, and the symbol I besiege.

In the crossings and crownings of the celestial lip, 
neither space nor nudity, death, 
here and there terrifying, blocks the way. 
Look out! The light unwinds itself on me like yarn.

No stigma. Closure distilled from a heart-in-thought. 
With a damp crumb and a hearth, the dark, 
abyss of ice, hay that silk can't exhale 
and, half-forged, the iron of wingless retreat.

We didn't invoke it in vain. In the beating sack, 
or musky hoof conjured by the cyclop's fire, 
the limits examine. Likewise the evening, 
punishment and murmurs one of the posthumous killing
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 

HISTORY LESSON

      tipping the pitcher with the hand 
      vaguely blue like the milky image 
      where sense wanders 
                          halts 
      the righteous the line lost on the palm 

      and it turns dark 
                       and everything's going 
      on a greedy wind thrown out of paradise 
                  and 
      the lost oil lamps of delirium 

      the mirror's hive where we retched sponges

      malefactor of fossils 
      tongue-tied in the passage of fog 
      you curl up all at once 
      among thousands of bells 
      and false tracks of wheels 
                                     look at me! 
      these horses 
                 jangling shadows 
      or blind nets from lip to lip 
            will never 
            again be 
      the sweet mission of a war 
      for man has no regard for death 
      and death 
                        no regard 
                     for sorrow 
      undone by longing 
              eternity of a precipitate light 
      I know my faith and I imagine you enclosed

      eyes of cotton and a glassy look 

      the pale tricycles of the nothing sink 
      and the boat of marienbad 
                        slowly 
      crosses the blade of the sea 

      silence crawls along 
      the corsairs kneel on deck 
      and the dawn of being surrounds 
      a captive wit 
             besieged sailors 
      sunken irons or deafening routine 
      of the pomp of empire 

      on the peak 
      where yesterday Riba-borders 
                   blossomed 
       buds of 
                Carner-butchers 
      lost in the spectral silence 
      of a dream's gorge 

      outside the walls the horizon 
      smiles and like a dead man floats 
 

AMATORIUS
 
 

I.

Blindly the dark ship navigates 
bodies facing west 
Mute guardian for the lovers, silence 
 

II.

Inhabited by the ghostly 
light of a lover 
beyond the season of clouds and rain 
I read again 
the secret, obscure book of origin 

I touch the dark eyelids 
of the abyss 
 

III.

A smoky sword, the spring 
where twilight releases 
a heavy stench of slaughter 

Where remains of warriors 
lie scattered.

CARPE DIEM
 
 

Like that poor bird pecking 
the split pomegranates in the garden 
you make me think of the futile 
mirage of life: 

the glow of desire in each seed, 
for every one of your kisses the lineage 
dreams embellish on my shroud.