And if this day were to bear us no light

And if this day were to bear us no light

This loving creature would still share

The magnificent radiance within her

Of which I would watch along with

Those pretty little footfalls of hers

Gentle and harmless against the hapless soil

Just as a butterfly is harmless upon a bough

Or a dove to a soul; her soul satisfying mine

As would morning dews

When falling from trees to pastures

And with this I say

As my spirit is at last calm and silent

“Let my voice make you still as I dream of your eyes against mine”

How could one not dream to those eyes?

Or admit to its gaze?

Which is like the wide seas of Cuba

The blue and peaceful breast of its waters

Coupled with the sparkles that dance against the waves

On the distant hovering tune of moonlight

But if this day were still to bear us no light

This verse then would still trace the cloud of her cheek

Slowly until it reaches the grandeur of her curved ruby lips

That little by little would carve itself into a smile

Not only are those the sole beauty of her

But as well as her eyelids

A soft lively foehn, a converge of playful leaves

Blowing tender as if to expose the bare regions of her eyes

Whose counters when spread wrinkles not

The even slope of her chiseled nose

Nor the small curled petals of her ears

The way her hair would align itself

Flowing firm like cascading molten gold

That slumbers in the golden summer wheat

Until it falls to the nape

A smooth complexion of aromatic milk or honey

Submerged beneath the sweet linings of fresh naked skin

The more I lay her within these verses

The more it would venture

Down to her structure, to her apple shoulders

That would like rivers, separate into

Bronze parallels until it arrives to a

Cupped and slender auburn stones

Transparent she shines

More exquisite than the blond halo of the moon

She is luminous, a grand ballroom of light,

A burning torch, a rapture of aureoles

Or wild forest fires, a collection of sunrise and sunsets

That would drift down to the earth like cushioned marigolds

Or yellow rays of pure sunlight

Extinguishing all melancholic themes or thoughts

Converting them to deep, hopeful passion

Of a star-felled lover.

I have come to love you like I have loved none more

What now then that you are gone?

And I, left with none but my pain, and your eyes,

Your lips

And your lips against mine on empty air

Or my cheek against the flower of yours

Pressed against my empty palms

What now then that you are absent?

And the night remains as magnificent as ever

What now then that the wind shall not carry

My voice to your ears, which are close and distant

I say it will be like bridges collapsing,

But with no waters to fall to

No rocks to crash upon,

And the void catching it with still time

I say it will be like apples or apple trees

With the apples floating on desolate fullness

And the tree bore to stand with no roots

With the lover beneath it catching

The shade of a non-existing shade

I say it will be like a haunting

By the shore, beside the sea

When all is quiet and calm

And I hear only your breath

Believing that the waters speak

Or the sea shells stare

All the while hoping it be you

I say it will be like my cheeks pressed against

The flower of yours

When the night is as magnificent as it is always

And the water speaks to us

And the sea shells stare in envy

And your arms and your embrace

With my body within it

But the wind does not carry me to you

Nor my voice, or your gaze

And I fear that you are gone

As I come to love you more

Without rest and without resentment

I have come to love you more

Though I have come to have none more

Of you at my side

And the night remains as magnificent

Far away within your eyes

Mellifluously, Autumn Passed Last Evening

Before water and sand

Between my palm and your palm

There lies that substance.

Air.

But sometimes it is fire

While often times, music

Drawing it near

You draw yourself,

In every grace imaginable.                            

                                             Soft

Transparent, fragrant.

And the heavens bond

While the soil acquaints itself

With the grass.

And as all goes to end,

Closing up in a tie

Time within time

There is that hand of yours

Smooth as wet rocks beneath green oceans

Seemingly gathering every

Marble underneath fields of wheat

And oceanic land

And within you I have captured sunlights

                                                         And spring mornings

As well as temperate zephyrs

At play in restless beauty.

At the same time I saw a tree

Emerge from beneath the sea.

And from the foams of its waves

Underneath your feet. . .

I have exposed the brightest of lights,

A spacious fill of cinnamon rocks

Beneath green oceans.

                                                       And I, Overpowered,

Have discovered the pleasure of your eyes.

‘tis now where I lie myself.

Do walls Remember us

do walls remember us

we forget them

we search instead for the next wall

satisfied we levy on its regret

for being forgetful

and speak of it in a different name

like

male, female.

like wall. Past

you and me, we are grieving

over strangers of our time

phantoms of our lips;

your eyes forsake mine,

mine forsake yours

and a passing bends to the fire

                                              hungrily.

after all

we are forgotten

we are forgotten

When I finally fall

When I finally fall, sweetness

It will be forever

Like changing days

Without changing times

Or time within days

Of unchangeable hours

From There my solitude

Will cast out its arms

Into plantations and red gardens

Plucking you out, my dearest, red orange

And carefully resting you in my arms.

And I will be captivated by your roundness

And by your beauty

The desirable form of a soft, small fruit

From our love there will sprout plants

Of dancing ice and gentle fire,

And there, within them will be our feet

Filled by infinitesimal brightness 

When I finally submit, to you, love

It will be as dear as it was

When the first morning fell,

When the first rays of the light passed

And laid with soil in an act of wild passion,

Creating an earthquake of sweat

And whispers rooted out from chaste love

From the stomach of the soil

The ocean reaches out to her distant night

Plucking out stars, burning darkness, stealing light, and brings it to her lips

She will be filled with fire

Until she sparkles like my soul when I love you

When I finally fall, beloved,

It will be forever

And there will be fountains between your arms

But, sickness created love and love, sickness

And this soil is sick and is a ghost

And I am made to walk on

Love’s tremors

Shuddering during the time that you are distant

But why are you distant?

When I finally fell and it will be forever

While I, Closed eyed in the afternoon,

Will send out hopeful signals to your mouth,

Sad words to your absent ears

And jealous breaths to the breeze behind your neck

And say that I, sweetness will be eternal and

I will remain as ashes, or burnt wood

Of an ethereal fire

And rocks will conspire against me

On top of me, sand,

And me, ah me . . .

An evergreen wasteland of pure love

A Thousand years of Madness

It so happens that I am a sad man

That I sit on this bench alone

Or I eat on that plate without food

Or I simply walk on the street without

Shoes

It so happens that I am visited by ghost and deadly apparitions

When I go to bed, and I talk to them,

Scolding them for dying and leaving me here

With my breath, my body, my soul, my uncovered feet

It is so much that I grow jealous at them for being transparent

And that they can imitate the moon and the night,

Appear and go as they please,

I go to sleep thinking of rocks and the soil and how reclined

I am with them

Afterwards I sit on my hammock and sulk their for the whole day

Contemplating on my apples and blue tulips.

How ugly they are!

It so happens that I am a destroyed being

That I am not even a man anymore,

maybe I am not

I am just this spirit or lone tree or rock

A mistake in space and time

A solitary planet over blue waters

Small enough to mingle in the sand

And I hate it that I have to be awake during the day

That I have to walk in the grocer’s store or in the butcher’s shop

I hate the morning, I despise it, loath it

Its brightness hurt my eyes, and women’s fragrances

Hurt my nose,

It would be beautiful if I can engulf the day

And spit it out again as night

Or it would be interesting, even tasty if I can go to church naked

Peck that boy with a pebble, or eat the whole cow by myself

Above all

I wanted to be these words,

Free, distant, cold,

These words write themselves with dread

And decay, as if they were catacombs

And deep forests, an abyss under the ocean

Or the cold dark stares of a native, like nails and dead hairs

Or a wide blue knife that when engaged into happy hearts

Springs like stars glowing during midnights

I wanted to be that tunnel, and I would be excited,

Tickled when insects and snakes and roots

Would slither inside of me.

I would be in the soil,

And I would be once more happy

Happy that I am damp, and unfertile

Unfriendly to plants, and flowers, and little feet

Briskly walking when I pinch them with my rocks

And my thorns

It so happens that I am alive and I was born out of pity.

What kind of god was that? Bringing a child into the world

So it can suffer in the joys of breathing

It so happens that I am tired and my soul is absent

And I sob hard and deliciously when I pass by lovers

And gardens

Ahh, I wanted to be that rock, that tunnel, those words

And I hate every moment that would take mornings to

Walk and reach night

I do not like it that there are bones and flowers

Beneath the soil immersed in an act of love

I dislike that the streets are cobbled by stones

And wish that there would be an intimate odium amongst

School children,

You cannot blame me,

I have no fault for fault does not own me

And I owe fault nothing

The truth was,

If I find spring times, and golden summers

I would have wanted to like it

If I were offered the aromatic delightfulness of cream

And salmons, and grapes,

Oranges,

My heart would have wept with joy

And the heavens would have worshipped me,

Sunlight would have discovered my face

And made laughter a shelter on my lips

All of this I would have liked,

Wanted and eaten all with fervor and ardor

Intimately and profusely,

If not for the fact that am born missing one of my left fingers

And the sole on my foot.

The rest of my soul.