Saturday, March 22, 2008
there are two giant turtles:
the sea turtle
and the giant Galapagos tortoise--
larger than I've ever seen,
we could walk on them
if we were little --
each plate a Pangaea
a Tierra del Fuego --
intense winds, winters:
we'd have to hunt for,
torpidly, spears in hand
throwing long dashes
toward a destination, hoping
to reach a target.
It's getting colder towards night.
It's the green of the grass & trees
that gets to me: it leads me,
leads me always to the museums.
This is a microcosm of man's experience.
The cast model of a velociraptor-type dinosaur
gave me the chills. The heebie-jeebies
are also a microcosm of man's experience.
Whale bones, older'n a hundred years.
It's strange and ominous & lovely
how a whale's skin almost
has nothing to do with its bones.
Later on, a gigantic mug of coffee
and an empanada. My hand slipped
& too much sugar landed in the cup.
where the two heat lamps
sunning your arms-like-live-pin-cushions
in which all seems a bit dreamy --
be it the heat or not
you've nothing to do with your time
but sleep. The grandest object:
the window: an arch, pillar sentinels,
long glass plates, rose-tipped
at the actual arch. Darkness.
Awake again, heat's off.
were there ghost's cackling recently?
The arch pointing downward, smiles.
Hay una falla en el centro
una fruta podrida al fondo del canasto
un rostro quemado por los agentes del horror
un rastro que supura bajo las vendas.
Hay un error en todo esto.
Una piedra en el engranaje
un mecanismo desaceitado.
Son objetos, cartas, llaves perdidas bajo la alfombra
basura, quebradas que esconden cuerpos bajo la cal.
No hay sagrado corazón que redima.
No hay oración que enmiende ni explique.
Hay un pinchazo por donde se cuela el aliento
un desastre por donde hace agua la embarcación.
Hay una grieta
una trizadura en el centro
Allí chorrea la comprensión
el alquitrán ardiente de la palabra
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The smell of honey
is either coming from the mug of it
or the smallest traces of it
that might still be on my fingers.
Voice, recently lost; recently gained again.
Viral or bacterial? Will I sleep tonight?
Emergency water next to the bed.
A heavy head. It's viral.
Being almost mute is wanting
to tell the world "Stop!"
Today was a friend's birthday.
One of the girls here cried.
I couldn't ask anything.
I don't think I'll ever know why.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
My legs are sore, have I pulled them
or not stretched enough?
I find ants in the bed: at first a strange,
jittery speck. Then I see legs.
I've killed a plenty by now, in the bed alone.
My fingers smell of garlic:
I tried to make an interesting marinara.
Thinking always brings my hand
near my nose. What a strong smell.
Opening the bathroom door,
seven, eight ants just circling,
no purpose. I don't do a thing about it.
Lately there's a strange picking
on my skin while in bed.
I hope it's my imagination.