selection of poems FINAL KEY (Ediciones del Mirador, Montevideo, 1982)
(FINAL)
I close every cycle, in just me. Tiresias
provides the transvestite in silence for centuries
answered by a human echo
and just me.
Andre Gide
Twenty-five years after his death. Male
André Gide, useless thought, why
wove webs of ink drop
for a pure love?
we no longer shakes the fire that burned down
teen basement of your province. Male
André Gide, your story was far from
soles of Algeria. Another meat
moon and closed
claimed you sleep in the tree that penetrates
the twisted path to his death.
Other fish
sailed from rotting leaves broken into the throats of the shadow. Why
your hands were not delivered to the mystery?
do you still resist the power of seamounts
? Male
André Gide, useless
reflection, embark on your journey toward male ancestor field
as if every allowance
and mirror of your eyes each sign.
But do not forget Andre Gide:
is close the door and no one can throw you in the face
the stone you wanted.
OTHER (Arthur Rimbaud)
was fired before
and a stream of silence come. I was below
Wounds inverse
harpoon when tracing his neck was broken against insorteable surface? The flood reached
crashed and was singing and the fire was a dance between the reeds
sang the air burned as black spiral
or poems.
My hands were broken in soles starry skies
by repeated every night.
my head I saw dancing in the waves
sky outside without anyone to look at her. Lying on the ford
a fierce joy
ribs unbuttoned me to sing my eyes like stars and stars
rebels cracked as nails. Green
slaughterhouses night Delirious skies
-old gave birth to me, if I remember correctly, the giant white
the universe
pure silence, silence blue eye that guided its rapid
eternity. Before it was the farewell
and there was a time of love for men
-tanned skin was used as a witness
my lack of love-
they loved me and come on stream once
stars and how could they be reversed under his silence
all expected
Purgatory broken?
SURF ARE
sea and surf are crazy,
are fire by night, are scams
stones, sand and nightmares are Eye
dragged
sinking cave,
throat in fear. Are slaughtered
night, bursting
empty planet.
CHORUS OF DUMMIES
We board the deceitful men,
the breath, the immobile, we were the naked
by remnants of beaches, and ran.
But do not lay a mirror in our mouths, our eyes do not look
frozen: we
almost collapsed
children cry and telephone networks. We repeated
your voices to silence drowned behind the windows. Then we aborted
flower in our bellies
and I bristled as salt our waistlines.
We saw the sweat on your hands
and we put a piece about sex
and exploded inside
theaters to become torn, broken racks
for this suit to death emergency. Oh
broken faces that day, ay
springs impotent
ay promised the silent beaches.
But do not look for a sign in our face, do not try to claim
mercy on our hands. We
jurors carton and lies. We are still
sentinels
steps that you step and only model
your death.
ACCOMPLICE
... "and there was silence as
half an hour in the sky"
Revelation, VIII, 1.
I am complicit in the elevators,
morning but there are oranges lying on the days I go back to visit
and run away shouting urgent newspapers anonymous
from bus tickets.
The elevator began to swallow the sun, and oranges
yesterdays and horses swallowed the sun
cone guilt and
there was silence in the sky and a moment of anguish
mineral exact
smile of the girl photographed
in the notice where it blows his suicide
each day.
I burn one second behind my profile teeth
crackle as I blame
in the range of its fire swallowed,
not play, almost biting her cry
(a silence in heaven)
accomplice
(as half hour until his death)
betrays me this glare of buffoons in the eyes.
TRAVESTI
Angel Baroque
always cracked the boy behind the purple
stretches the point of his desire
to your fingers. Here a skull
explodes in your sweat, you
a Jewish hand twist of fate, is durrumba
screams a foreboding fear
your horoscope
and destroyed. Goldsmith nothing:
a sweat again, almost anything
at your fingertips.
he dies
Bye. The
dies and no breath, no I have
ribs, summer dies
giant pearl
savage dies, rose
Baroque
explodes like a temple and I can not claim the secrets
fire
the towers lifted for petal
this perfume of incense rose
anything.
Bye. The
dies. Vanishes
abolished its long dynasty. Ah, the glory
dies, the snake and medieval world knew
dies, deposes his empire each member. Collapsed
castle
body burned and loved. Goodbye. Dura
law of a summer. The
dies.
NIGHT Night, whore vigilant
you redeem your hope, I give you
smuggling by armed men a day,
'll buy your lie.
I betrayed your traps and go through your customs
more covert. I am the little beast
wild necklaces,
I am the prostitute and not the nightmare endured and fled
and I
the transvestite dressed up in your blisters.
I sing to your cat dance Enceladus
barter am your joy,
my back, I refused
profile illuminated three times my skin
harassed at its borders,
my land of sun, surrounded
my words.
embora
FUI I embora, I embora,
ninguém viu, Irma, ninguém viu cavalo
or on a water?
The body lay on the beach as clothing
fall, my shirt,
these measures taken by the wind.
I lived in my body, I stepped on the sand
,
I was the owner of the water and the horse.
(And fear me crispa
backs not to fall like a rotten roses.
And the joy I
up by the arms as a threat) I dwelt
vertical horizon and sky rage.
And no brothers, no one saw
the rider on the water?
SUNDAY AFTERNOON
Sunday afternoon, it is time to contemplate the absence
my face
seven days delayed. Nobody
prevent a Sunday afternoon
slowly disassembling my chin
if the grin was anguish in silence
leaving the bones
secret and was only sweat my former disappointment.
(In the emptiness of this room and the death of Beethoven
chess moves to each of my vertebrae)
I can entangle this day
veins to reverse the course of blood.
quiet I can hear the symphony in my body toning
return to its absence.
I can die a Sunday afternoon
seven days after my skeleton. LITURGY
Meticulously rid cord ankles
opened his belt and went belly
hips gently. I unbuttoned with minutiae
chest
mask off my face from chin to the neck and if a chill
dorsal column betrays me
the statement as a fetus
every morning.
WHY
This circuit, life
burning passion broken
rotating between my clothes
their fatigue, their cry
between my blood stream.
Life is fraught with death
behind this smile,
behind this argument daily word
you think and corrupted in the morning.
Then why, why is the night
pure, blue, indifferent, cold
THE LOVE
I
I look at the castle of my body, I am left
a king in his palace ,
am the tyrant of my dumb bones.
closed in my body, I
pursue the career of my blood,
see you in the eyes that burn me to turn the orbit
their last rest, I feel impenetrable
between my belly like a hard
cathedral of wine. King
insane in his country with blood, you'll walk for stays
cracked until the outbreak of the border of my skin, alums
until my blood with your blood, drop
until you hear your cliff
skeleton man and my exile
.
II
Night, held late night
sonata and slow light blue area,
succumbs if you think, oh
night of your body, lute
madness, I only strummed strings.
I hear you still vibrating in my hands
and one night and slowly grows
area alone,
for anyone burning one
their fire sonata.
TIME Time, the time
on that string to break the detainee
note the lengthy time and always moving his knees
time moving, articulating bone
words, fear
mills
the cunning cities that operate at
dead tomorrow and after
broken and love of other days to break the note
grip and bounce.
TIME SAL
This is yellow when the wolves.
This is a time of burnt bones
as hollow columns at the bottom of its collapse.
(Two thousand tracks of hounds
to nail desecrated of all statues)
This is the time made that the actor sweated
shouts his penultimate monologue
¾ and beach rock can not withstand its ugly nakedness,
sand whistles
his delirium in the mouth of the fish skeleton dead and dry. The cry of the actor
dig a tunnel
afraid because this is the hour of wolves,
because this is the time threatening salt depleted
back crosses.
This is the time that turn the clocks back.
This is the time when the bone does not resist the madness of centuries. Here
dust no longer supports its columns.
the towers collapse,
salt and dynamite to break the rage of the statue. Here the mouth
broken stones.
CITY
I
seminal time in the meters, when the herd
gray panthers roar
to crack under the asphalt,
when I laugh, I breathe the breath of polluted sea
and tar covering me call me
Peninsula. At that time
Peninsular
when the voices questioning the isthmus destroyed
lift my back and not play
the islands.
not grant you the docks on beaches
disturbing?
not hear that whine when ordered?
Do not descend the jetty: J'ai seul
the clef de cette parade sauvage
CITY
II
says from the Rocks:
is not evil but destroy my sign
.
The piercing call of the ship
bristles for me sometimes in the fog
(what Moon does not tempt
the irritating cycle?)
when oil and water and that burning in my surroundings
rocks.
One day I saw (my goodness is not the sign)
and gave me a name to hold everything.
in my mouth is the basis of the transient. My oysters
reborn but with no will or
and from My stone is eternity
who bare me.
21 MARCH 1976
I
Nobody wanted this song
evicted.
was not me who wanted
exile.
March 21, another station
that nobody wanted,
men cry in vain,
not want it, nobody wanted this border
evicted, nobody
this autumn day underground.
II
But this loneliness,
on March 21, the four meters
March 21, the four walls.
But the fall and the solitude of the world
of 21 March, and the only condition
on 21 March. It banishes a man
your loneliness of man on 21 March.
III
But now autumn.
But the fall. Evicted
fall of every fall
occurred. Fall adult
expelled from his own March 21.
alone and ash fall.
But autumn now decreed.
But the fall of the silent.
But the fall.
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