RESCUE

Half Maria wakes up with the desire to stisfy
the broken hymens of the moon
the gravity, hurt to death, ties my dreams

Thanathos,

                               You burn me

The Solitude of the City

I.

The sanity of the stop light reminds me how impossible your seriousness was
…

The solitude of the city
cannot fit in the mouth of the most beautiful bird

II.

I am to tell you
about the secret fear I keep in my right pocket
It was easy for me to guess how old a flower was
by counting the dead butterflies lying around it

WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THE PAIN

III.

I remember
the discreet laugh of your door
and my shoes carrying the day in my heart
…

they used to smell like mornings

IV.

You came like bad news comes
with the wind all around you
reflecting all the diseases

Built from vertigo
you move around the avenues
seeking trees to devour

V.

Come
let’s invade the night’s reflection
that can only be opened
at the hour of the bodies

ADRÉE

I translate your eyes in the shade of my drained legs and, sometimes, it seems that we are the same race at the time when your eyelids crawl on the earth’s plagues to entertain your senses… I have learnt to love you where the perverse hides the reflection of your cruel nails, the pale gold of your chest and the architecture of your armpits. I believe that you are, with heaviness, the evocation of a voluptuous time that stops above your steps and sometimes, you are also the sides of my breasts and my brain/ a completely blank canvas.

The city X-ray

10 pm

                                            A huge hole kidnapping
                    this uselessly white Arequipa*

This city like                      baroque buildings
                                              of volcanic flowers from seconds to fall 

                                                                                  January 29, 2013.
                                                           (the first barkings of the avenues)

The sun rises: the night opens its legs to die

The sun rises: a SMS wakes up to devour my nails

Did you see?

We are Ícaros falling by the sharp edge of the Eden noir

SEND

4 pm
-blue nails swallowing the four pm

of this corner sick of dreams -

Today:
a little girl strangles her hair with ideas.     
their voices point to the “Pacha**” woven with blood.

Today:  I pretend to dye my bones mud

                                 * Souther city in Peru

**Quechua word for mother earth

VIVIANE

Viviane, the night approaches with half notes, cutting the hymens of the flowers and radios. You have learnt to entangle yourself in the moon’s ghosts, getting your temples naked to tide them to your fingernails. Your soul is rotten Viviane, and your body is used. The shape that follows you is a thunder that leaves emptiness in mortals’ brains. On a spinal bed that is nothing but your desiccated vomit. 

The night approaches and crushes against your wall of impossibilities.