More beautiful than the winds Who by their silky back-and-forth Weave hope into destiny; And never has the hope launched Any man’s wager as high as the vital illusion Who rides his flight on the wings of the vulture.
If death can fly for the sake of stealing, is there anything that life, for the sake of dying, could not do?
Deliverance is music and splendor We go beyond the chaos We open up to other innocences
Our desires live inside inaccesible gardens where the trees have no root, where the plants sing of freedom and infinity fringes the latticed flowers on the gate, open to all pollen, bittersweet with the flavors of distant fruits
we’ve circled one another for so long hesitant, reticent, waiting for all defenses to fall, the hunger in us grows through tomorrow like a vine strangling fear; we are for each other no strangers to ritual; our candles and memories are omens, our longing becoming prayer…
we barely speak this language of love; that improbable existence of luminous joy is not for him, the philosopher, nor for me, his poet, we offer to others what we deny ourselves while dreaming for too long, defenses one by one burning from the center of Self reaching for the horizon, our hearts embracing before the suffering Light, our hearts bathed and washed in waters of love’s benediction; placed along shores where the fires ravage our fierce dreams, inaugerating that which is not yet in us
It’s not in smoking volcanoes Nor in the boiling blue foams rising from the oceans Yet in these regions is where you and I live, here we name the secret streets and make elegant histories to describe this, our indecipherable colony of love, here we live through nights and days under the wide open gaze of the sun and the moon, looking for augurs in in the skies, searching for the dazzling eclipse, a white crack the thundering gash of God His holy hologram Eye all seeing emerging through the hollow walls of our planet, He offers us incense and fire with which to light up the the scattered syllables of the lost codes written on these stones which I carry, each in its own upturned palm, as I seek him who will read these invisible stones which are my burden; yet
despite my patience, no fiery winged Pentecost descends around me, just these snatches of darkness, as I put on my lead mask, turning my face up to the sky; innominate meteors fall down, robbing me of my vision that fails just as he locks the doors behind us.
You fall once again through the slit of the night with no other weapon but open eyes and terror against the invader. He is legion, Relentless Legion is his name; growing tenfold, you’re cornered inside the ravenous cobwebs of his blind romance Sentry Soul, you are the One closing his eyes becoming the home of His whole universe,
Whoever opens his eyes draws to the border to remain homeless there forever as insomnia comes tunneling through to prove the inconsistency of all reality;
Night after night I am punctured by the single bullet that you shot right into to me in the dark, and I try to recognize you when we waken from the memory of death, you, my perverse temptation, adorable angel attacking my Sentry Soul, kissing my skin, your sacred face buried in my hair, whispering conjurations to make up for having been born..
You who speak of bribing the emissaries of my future: at the bottom of Everything there is the Garden where the blue flower of Novalis’ dream blooms eternal, it is the cruelest flower, the Vampyre Flower
Groping, you chose me to be the statue of all allegory, just by the habit of immersing myself in your sea at the end of the world; I lose my head beneath your bare stare and with each step I become glass to be ground
By chance were I not your favorite lover, the one who advances sans hesitation to nestle inside the hatch of your hand just as it snaps shut, were I not your favorite lover who bites to sip the venom from your wounded heart would your palm open?
Oh tie me down so that I do not go away every time I hear your thieves song, singing at the expense of day, I confuse sand and snow, wolves and shadows, your hand on my shoulder, and it’s too late to turn back to set my hours by the sun, now you have marked me with your secret alphabet, and now I belong to the tribe of those who dwell inside the radiant darkness of those who look their best with eyes closed, lying alongside the edges of all abyss, languid to watch ravens fly away, never to return before the Dove of the oblivious moon
I am Streaming silent Radiant longing; I am streaming helpless prayers I am pretending to tear down all the fragile dams so tenderly built to protect your precious treasures
I love your mind’s measures, it’s restless order calls to me, come to follow and I will take your lead take me to our love that brings us to meet in temples where the sun still sleeps in ancient stillness among tombs,
I love your reason’s wise madness, I love how it breaks and re-constitutes me into your architecture of passion, this is the price of your love saved up and mine taken at the cost of my life,
You living like a lonely child inside the pit of my heart, I love you even when I am a veil of rain inside your laughing eyes, I love you with purest unity, portioned without cut and without any returning to my destiny
I love how your love takes us to the sharp dangerous edges of your soul, nearby, our guardian angels bend down in blessings as every safety promised by God is allowed and made manifest under your stern gaze, and I inside your heart, this is where I sleep, forever here.
As a Light that always goes In front, if I take you by the hand, will everything be suddenly simpler? The people, nicer, their wordy evils turned to hardened lava under their tongues, yes, as everything is done by the hand.. take my hand under this lamplight of love,
as from the black clouds, rubies and gems pour out , as from my eyes your bottomless sorrows fall into me; without your face before me, as beneath each darkness of my eyelashes, gardens bloom from blood rains pouring down around my booted soul,
my love, what does a bubble in the ocean know about the sea? what does a handful of sand know about the desert? Books are destroyed, statues pulled down, banned poems break like glass ..what would even a child learn from all of this desolation?
I just want to be as a child for you, as a Light that always goes in front, I will take you by the hand until we are both transparently, light as light as places that have no names in being, as essence as far from evil just so you can stop and wait for me.
Blushed eyelids, stripes of kohl.. Colors of stigmata inside caved silences violet stained red, horizons of absence, this world is not mine
The trees of Eden do not grow in this Garden and the soft breaths and the heaving bosoms of flowers ignore my begging, claiming, but yes!, you are the fruit of roots growing out of deep nights descending the blind stars
Oh great Mother Night! daughter of Mercy, pity
our mechanical Egyptian arms, our drunken glass eyes turned to the walls, reading hieroglyphs between the drawings, laughter reigns over this underground cavern of souls our days of invention crashing soundlessly our earthenware bearing resemblance to the shamelessness of all shareable destructions
I belong to the tribe of those who dwell in radiant darklight dawn, Nights and days with eyes open under the unbearable blinking of the sun, watching for signals in the sky,
The shadows of a dozen dazzling eclipses on the face of time, the whitelit thunderings from God raging against a painted planet’s eyelashes
I’m on fire, I am reduced to ashes The blooded bird takes her flight disappearing inside a skylit ring worn on the hand that paints the soft grains in between light and darkness: I live inside the eyes of a world the eyes of a world where a man takes no prisoners when he dreams.
The demon of mockery dragged you into the dust to defile the noblest image of humanity.
The spirit of this world is eternally at war with all that is beautiful all that is good and great: it does not believe in God or in celestial spirits, it wants to steal from the heart all its treasures, as it destroys all beliefs by attacking all illusions.
But poetry, of humble birth like you, is also a pious shepherdess; She covers you with all the privileges of her divinity, she surrounds you with a procession of stars, and spreads her glory around you …
O you that God’s heart made you will live immortal!
The world likes to obscure everything that shines, to cover everything that rises with it’s mire. But fear nothing!
There are still good hearts which quiver with sublime and generous actions; Momus delights the multitude, a noble spirit cherishes only noble things.
My heart was tired of finding no one, My eyes were tired of being disappointed.
One night, I wandered, thoughtful and dreaming through sleeping plains; in the distance, snowfalling on red horizons before the growing dawn,
In the shadows, I was slowly stripping away memories of my loves, and when I was done, I looked behind at what remained when suddenly, I saw Him, calmly and serenely walking slowly, weariness enveloping Him
I saw Him.. He came to me.. reaching out His arms, hugging me; His eyes closed as if to see further than reality, He spoke to beg me “Let me see your blue eyes in the night”
Silver stars rose from the earth … They say there are skies under which no man can live, but I never saw them when He smiled, He loved the azure of my eyes, and nothing in the world was ever more intense than this.