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This blog now lives on in a website of mine: lit.iajrz.com
Este blog ahora vive en un sitio web propio: lit.iajrz.com

Cosmic Tantrum

Utter quiet.
Not the animals of the night, falling asleep
not the animals of the morning, still stretching
not the gales of autumn
not the rains of spring.

It is, perhaps, a signal.

--

   in the midst of quiet

a pungent feeling of sadness broke the last piece
the last pillar
the last binding

an ancient five-year-old's face scrunches
mouth contorted into an awful grimace
fists close
air rushes into the lungs

and the fit starts

--

The animals of the night,
the animals of the day,
all takes flight.
The very trees are shook, their bark torn apart in an effort to escape.

The gales blow in, then out
rain falls, then turns to mist
    a crack opens in the floor, and hell abdicates
  ghosts, ghouls, devils- all beings crumble in horror.

--

   in the midst of chaos

reality melts into order
pieces shift into new places
    the universe
        has bent.

the face relaxes
the fists open
the grimace fades
breathing slows

and then life starts.

Untitled (gone)

Fellow's really weird, see
he swam offshore --
no one has to choose an option
we all have to make a choice

He chose to swim away
(swim, how fitting)
swim away into the night
to an island close by
He could've burnt the world
he could've had his way
fellow's really, really weird, see:
he swam offshore instead

He packed his looking glass
and a packful of lenses
and some hollow sticks -- bamboo
built this silly, clumsy thing
to see all that he'd just left

Offshore onto an island
where he sits and just looks back
burns his dreams in wide, green leafs
gives his words unto the sea

Gazing through his looking-stick
blurry past and future lives
islands all that can be gone to
others never to be had

In a way it's all in plan
in a way it's all awry
mist is now his sole companion
on the cloudy, too-cool nights

And he always truly wonders:
what of life would it become
if he only swam a little
if again he went offshore
fellow's really weird, see:
'cause he knows he could've known

On the morning the smoke signals
on the afternoon the bottles
on the night the signal fire
looking always for an answer
from his self-imposed exile

Nostalgia II

Thinking of walking
in the sand
And the way the footprints would get erased
by an errant wave splashing white

forgetting, then
the beach from the dream
the feel of the breeze
the time of the day
the name of the scene

a brief pain,
gut wrenching, but soft
like a caressing wind soon gone
knot raising to the throat
stopping halfway

why am I nostalgic?
what am I remembering?
what did I forget?
it is not raining, so, why-
why are my cheeks wet?

Nostalgia

A shadow
among the lights
came, unbidden
and caressed his face
summoned his tears
wiped them off tenderly
and with a clear laugh
a smile
an echo
resumed its stay
among the memories.

Untitled

Yes, there were gorgons
and they were fierce
and walked behind the unseeing wanderer, the lost one.

And shadows of voice came in and out of existence
and the lost one reached out
touch, voice, soul, hope and desperation, craving for company.

Heavy thuds and the lingering question:
what is this, why is this?
can never there be a touch upon my shoulder, quiet in my soul?

And the shadows of voice were left behind,
stilled,
and the road was made, by one and three, a garden of statues

the bait, unknowing
the huntresses, goading
and a trail of cold solitude soon to be forgotten in the grand scheme of things.

3600

Un suave y constante martilleo en el ambiente.
Las capas de polvo engendran del éter, de lo imperceptible, y hacen tangible el paso del tiempo.

Entre golpe y golpe se van sellando destinos, se hacen los caminos predilectos, las trayectorias incorregibles.

Un grupito de casillas efímeras, se escapan entre los dedos a la vez que se juntan a un lado u otro de la balanza, según las inclinemos. Y no es si no hasta que hay una montaña que se hacen obvias, ineludibles... Y nuestra postura necesita, pues, de justificación.

Platónico

En otro universo podía ser
donde no hay sombras extrañas que espantan la noche
donde el vacío es cálido y aceptable

quizás allí vieron las mismas luces
los mismos colores

y, si él necesitaba guía
ella pudo haberlo sido.

Pero en este mundo aún brincan
por el susurro del viento entre las hojas
aún en las noches agradables

y el vacío -
él no puede ver el vacío,
ella camina y baila con el vacío.

En otro universo podía ser
pero ahora, aquí...
sólo un sueño al cual renunciar.

Tell me something about loneliness

abierto
mirando alrededor
escuchando
sintiendo
incapaz de mediar palabra
seña
incapaz de transmitir.



caminando
en las calles de Moscú, quizás,
una pequeña nevada
se ciñe sobre el alma
comiéndose el sonido y cubriendo todo
en la noche oscura y fría ya
más ahora

que no se ve
que no se oye
que no se siente



y aún, aún
incapaz de mediar palabra
seña
incapaz de transmitir







--

thx for the challenge, E.

Atemporality of Ignorance

fear, hope, expectation
    premonition
a load from inception
hopefully to be put down soon
  often bursting in realization


When is Today, if
dreaming up the lottery numbers
may "pay off"

one day.


Where is Now if
gut clenched in fear
may signal unseen danger

sometime.


What is mind if
life unaccounted for
anything may fit anything else

at some point.


chaos, uncertainty,
agnosis, hubirs.
Thus: Bayes.

The Sky

looking up
       the sky

sometimes cooperative
     full moon billions can see
certainly a few million looking up

others -- not so much:
       maybe stars half humanity share
or clouds
  at most shared by few, yet - how many looking up?

clouds - mist - loneliness in a valley
time curling up at your feet
   when you stumble, you know
      there's no one there to hold you.

Madness

sitting in the corner
at the corner looking
white room
comfy, closed, cool
light comes from an unreachable place
unbreakable place
unswallowable place

at the corner looking
sameness
lines touch
always, the same touch
lines in the walls, lines in the corners.

white room
room full of corners
fool of corners
can't think of anything else

comfy, close, cool
harmless
but the pain calls for harm
the face inside calls for a face outside.

light comes from an unreachable place
has it not always
why does that confuse so
why is this unreachable different from everyday unreachable?

unbreakable place
can't break itself
can't be broken
but the fragments are strewn all over the head
the mind is broken
even though the skull isn't, can't be

unswallowable place
no choking
no cutting
no relief after so much light
no rest - ever
like forever it feels to be there
in this place

unswallowable place
unbreakable place
light comes from an unreachable place
comfy, closed, cool
white room
at the corner looking
sitting in the corner

Crash

I want to crash into you.

I may be but a speck of dust
yet like a black hole,
you pull so hard I can barely tell
there's another state of being
an alternative
to hurtling towards you.

Even though I see the ways things could pan out
it's thrilling to go, faster -
you pull so hard I can barely take it
I know if we were to collide
the crater
would be bigger than any in the moon.

I want to crash into you,
I ache to just make a hole the size of Siberia in your life
and mine - expanded, changed, transformed
if so far there's been change
I wonder
what it would be like
if I were to crash into you.

I want to crash into you
and your fields of thyme and paprika
lemon pepper and earth
fall from the sky into that reality
embrace it
get soaked in it
be changed.

I want it - you pull so hard
I want to crash into you.

Random Memory

early morning
crisp, cold air all around
drawn curtains
time, frozen
the buzz that cradled him to sleep was still there
calming.

Already he knew he would cherish that memory,
that smell,
those sounds.

Lowering from the bunk bed,
the Batman bedsheets left behind
feet touch the ground
cold
oooh, so, so, very cold.

Already he knew he would cherish that memory,
that sensation,
those emotions.

Turning on the small TV
making sure the volume is really, really low
starting up the game
turning off the A/C - that cold would hold for a few hours
such cold feet now, weird.

Sitting down
purple chair, tiny - too tiny, but full of memories soon to come and soon to go
the controller feels cold, too
playing a little bit
monkeys running around
crocodiles, and beavers, and bees, and rhinos
the stuff of dreams right there.

Sister wakes up,
doesn't want to play head to head
let's just beat the game
talk a while
pause, for some reason
and the chill music so often heard
when they had to go down for breakfast
or lunch
or showering
or brushing their teeth
or out to play
that music could drive anyone insane if they heard it so often.

But it was, as was it all
happy.

Safe Path

not a license for thorns
or skin being torn
and leaking
spilling
the lifeblood of happiness without control
- it's freedom I wish for you.

letting the mule pick the road
accepting she knows
is not the same as closing the eyes
boldly
while walking along it
knowing not what home she takes you to.

a balm
fresh and warm and green
safe
a road you can look at and know
instantly
not a branch will catch your clothes
and steps will succeed each other
with blades of grass caressing your toes
and earth supporting you
Earth supporting you and letting you know
what home you're going to
- it's freedom I wish for you
to have life and eyes wide open
and just smile.

Memory Of You

of course I'll carve a space

     una cuevita al lado de la vereda...

A space and then some to spare

     nadie visita ni la revisa

I'll light a fire in the carving, too

    tiene una sombra que se asoma

let the name rest forever in the shade

    de una palma - árbol, no mano

in a cave, by the road

    resguardando un recuerdo atesorado

where no one will think to look

Sin Fe

un momento de silencio
debajo del sol viendo el tiempo pasar
suficiente para preguntarte si todo fue un sueño
o si fue real y lo dejaste morir.

ese arroyo que brotó de repente
del que tomaste
¿ilusión?

esa corriente de miedo
que te hizo anclarte desesperadamente
¿esperanza?

un momento de soledad
montado en el tiempo, viendo el silencio pasar
suficiente para preguntarte si estabas despierto
o si estás en un sueño esperando la realidad.

Own Them (Feelings)

Yes
these feelings again
wring my heart and own it
even for a while
even if you don't know
even if no one knows.

Yes, time and time alive.
I never needed it
I never missed it
until I had it again.


Own it, own the feeling, own me.
even if you never remember my eyes on you
on your smile
on your hands
on your ankles
on your soul - everything blurry, I couldn't get it right
but it didn't stop me from imprinting the universe
on what little I could see


and have this again
although I never missed it
and never knew I needed
to feel alive another time -

another time when no one knows
and you don't know
even for a while
you're wringing my heart
you own it
own me --

for a price
for a minute
eternal
joyful
now.

Saudade

Una vez quise saber quién eras.

Me intrigó la diferencia entre mi vida y la tuya,
tu silueta extraña, ajena, comprensible
tus patrones - que ni distinguía:
eran azares, destellos,

movimientos impredecibles.

una vez, una vez. Una vez quise saber.

Y nunca supe.

¿Quién eras?
te llevó un soplo de tiempo,
y con el pasar del viento noté de nuevo tu existencia.

Solo que ya no eras como una mota de color en la pared blanca de mi inocencia,
si no que mi conciencia cobraba color,
y mejor te comprendía de este lado del abismo que separa el hoy y el hace cien años.

¿Pero quién, quién eras ayer?
Entiendo hoy que mis ojos no habían crecido.
Al descubrir de la pregunta que quedaría siempre sellada
como todas esas ramas de presentes, pasados y futuros que se secaron al crecer
(esas alternativas que duelen y torturan con su ausencia)
me embargó una tristeza, una nostalgia.

Hay cosas que se comprenden sólo con trazos en la piel.


Una vez quise saber quién eras.

Entonces también estuve triste;
de alguna manera sabía que eras invisible para mí.

ahora, más que verte, me veo reflejado, refractado, contrastado, distorsionado
y me descubro en ti...
y en la locura de mil trozos de mi proyectados y desviados
te descubro como puedo en el tiempo que no tengo.

Si al mirar atrás aprendo que mis ojos no estaban tan bien,
cuando más adelante mire hacia aquí, ¿descubriré lo mismo?

No te veo. No te vi. No te veré.

Apenas me veo yo, y no me explico el afán.

Entre luz y contraluz, es difícil notar nada -

con el cambio de las sombras se transforma lo concreto.

En algún momento te vi rebosando de sabiduría.
En algún momento te vi rebosando de rebeldía.
En algún momento te vi rebosando de vida y fuerza y brío.
En algún momento te vi... o, mejor dicho, creí que te vi
y me hice un tatuaje de la idea - que eras tú - en el alma.

Una vez, quise saber quien eras.
Marcas, indeleble, un lugar como mil otros.
Hoy, como ayer, te llevo en mi.
Ayer, como hoy, te desconozco.

A Name

like a song
like an angel
like a dream


a name like a thousand unspoken things
  which can't be said

like sadness
like a memory
like the branch which withered up


choice and choice again
and the wonder of what comes
and the question of what won't.