Freesia Alfredo
Criar seu atalho
selection of poems ECLIPSE (Civil illiterate, Montevideo, 2003; Alforja, Mexico, 2006)
CANON OF ECLIPSE
Between the third and second millennium BC, the Chaldeans, and had found that every 223 lunar months, ie every 18 years and 11 days, there was a fixed set of eclipses of sun and moon. The Greeks called this cycle with the name of Saros, the Assyrian Sharu, "repetition." Today, the lists of eclipses sun and moon included in addition to the Saros cycle, before unpredictable, and published in books called the Canon of eclipses. The best known is that of Theodor Ritter von Oppolzer (Prague, 1841, Vienna, 1886). Its first edition appeared in 1887, LII volume of the Memoirs of Mathematics and Natural Sciences, Imperial Academy of Vienna. In this canon are 8000 and 5200 solar eclipses lunar eclipses. Are not yet eclipses of the moon in shadow.
[Thales of Miletus, Hipparchus, Sulpicius Gallus] Oh superhuman giants, who surprises the law of those great gods and release the spirit miserable mortals, who now looked terrified misfortunes eclipses or some kind of death of the stars, fear that the eclipse of the sun, as is known, inspired Stesichorus and Pindar, those sublime poets, and now believed that the moon was the victim of witchcraft and went to his aid with dissonant noise -for having feared the phenomenon of ignoring the cause, the Athenian general Nicias did not dare take your fleet and ruined port and the power of his country, honor to your genius, interpreters of the sky, you whose spirit embraces the whole of nature, inventors of a theory that gave you victory over the gods and men!
Pliny, Natural History, Book II, 9.
happen that day
Says the Lord Yahweh-
that in broad daylight, I will sunset
and cover the earth with darkness in the light of day.
trocars in your party duel, and chose
all your songs;
in all loins, and baldness
bag put in all the heads, I will
as an only child
duel and end like a bitter day.
Book of Amos, VIII, 9-10
ECLIPSE
would know that that night, the rattle of
limestone lying in the cave, quietly
wolves and men hand craftsmen, so
skilled in the art die.
And you, out there hurt you surprised by the stars?
throb no longer, they are not fleeing fugitive souls where a passion, this time born
eclipse opalescent eggs, waiting to be opened in the derrrumbe
. Fall upon the earth you stepped, hollow planets
of the first square, broken stones at the window that there were stories with your old
hunting scenes in Nineveh.
The time came, you saw too the parchment in your sky.
You know your chest or heart negative charges no family or anything
sacred, Freesia irremediable, only this time made of blue oyster, pearl
waning (do not repeat the bad luck in eclipse) which was reborn
always your father, inquiring
vain for a son, his message over time, fingerprints on the glass
future clouded and you, bottle into the sea, I swallowed the whirlpool,
dorsal from the Apennines to the plain.
not we look in detail, it
was the future, I knew refuge in the belly of the Bison:
were man and wife, and the sky was a desert half hour
where the fire burned cold in your bones, and was
would not have written
edges or destination or hope to die surrounded by your children, the semicircle
harassed from before birth. Do not see you stroking his soft skeletons,
your children killed (crying girl), songs to dance between the teeth
paper Chinese dragon, as tame as the moon rock
the anniversary, new born,
were the last shadows of the eclipse, while the rattle, Freesia, I keep waiting
cracked between your hands.
THE PERSIAN
According to Herodotus, Xerxes's army had ceased
Sardis Road at Salamis,
as the sun began to leave their place in the sky and disappear
. The day, calm and without a shadow of a cloud
was transformed into night. The sun
took the sapphire color and, looking at each other,
men were pale as death.
All things seemed to bathe in a dark vapor.
The amazement and horror seized the hearts of those young men
. Xerxes saw the prodigy,
followed him closely and asked his magicians
what it meant. The sky, he responded,
announced to the Greeks the destruction of their cities
for the sun, they said, is the star prophetic of the Greeks,
and moon the Persians. Xerxes, suspended,
are delighted with the response, relieved his men relying
with words and not be silent, never-ordered Herodotus
Back on the road.
the death was understood:
die of an eclipse, eternal as sapphire,
and we will return to the moon while a chorister
recite our names.
was only for that which we live.
Xerxes died in the palace, killed by a traitor.
NAUTICAL
Sunken Nicias, shipwrecked in caution, Nicias
Athenian general fool,
said Pliny the Elder and toothless: Quo
pauore ignarus causae Nicias Atheniensium imperator, Portuguese classem ueritus
educere, opes adflixit eorum.
"Understand now? You ruined your own country by an eclipse vain, you feared him
in the light of old movie, the matinee on a fleet
and did not come out for bad, the port. Bad press
the military, Nicias,
only poets remember you.
Pindar Untimely
Eclipse of Thebes, "the brief return again
exile to turn the sun Montevideo? You bring you the announcement
another war, ruin our crops
, some nameless
snowstorm which hide the trembling of the tyrants, or overflow of the sea
come to empty peninsula in? Will the ice
on the open or summer southerly winds will
sudestadas spill into angry?
you going to flood the land and expel the terrified men?
"then another race will be born among us? "And we again
borderless ghosts under the penumbra?
EVENING IN THE TOWER
"Ursula punctures the team Boyun " Julio Herrera y Reissig
See? Always rumbles before the flight, sudden collapses
afternoon. Ursula and not punctured Boyun
the team and still sleeps in the thick gloom
. A tundra? Hidden snapshot:
"Une station sur le Rio Balnéaire the Silver, 1900 "
or earlier when forests succumb to flight
the mound the sea. Do you see a jellyfish on the beach like giant
grief? Ursula "question? What dead language
souls take?
punctured the night, dinner, the blind suddenly.
A fly disturbs the orbit night
is lost, buzz.
PREPARATION OF A DINNER
with iridescent eye China Doll,
the seamless silk like skin, jade assayed
reflection of the veins, birds resting à
the CAMPAGNARDE.
contemplate long interrogation lujurioso cuello de los
ejecutar hasta con la fine art cisoria dexterity.
examine them on her wings marquetry del carver. El
abanico of malachite Tirzah
las respuestas hides.
HYGIENE
eye long the body of a poem
to lose sight of the body other than
Ana Cristina Cesar (Anna C.)
apagones y lluvia la noche del
eclipse, if at
pudo see anything. En
me dry house, thomas cafe oscuro y con la manga
me limpiaba
la sangre en las de un comisura verse of Anne C.
Mendeleev's table
Dimitri Ivanovich Mendeleev
(Tobolsk, Siberia, 1834-St Petersburg, 1907)
Dimitri Ivanovich, my point: I confess, I'm Desencontro
lately, I was confused
lunations, I knew I cheated
the lonely, and I play closes regular scale
fingers.
not sleep at night, and go around the table
the rarest metals and heavy
tiredness that you planned millennium without knowing name,
mineral salt, that of the statue.
I was pressing with fingertips,
lovers found hidden behind the bluebells was between the threshold and the sky and saw
the geniuses who passed down the cypress to touch boys.
also looked at the atomic
belly of the crosses and arrows, open under the full moon:
is cursed so much that they loved. Then I was a lover
metaphysical (was tired) and absorbed
Values \u200b\u200bwith dry lips.
I dressed up as a shepherdess in the Second Empire and consulting historian
tables Doré engravings. My profile was Greek and entertained
sonnets with the wool of sheep that stole
Virgil. Crimp
had plucked from precious metals,
and others who were not beautiful, Dimitri,
I confess but they were my salvation.
Then came the fall, and volatile metals, the wine
dizzyingly the dream of the gods, I diverted the hands
south
Marquesas Islands!, Shouted the luggage scale rebuild
inevitable. I talked
relieved with the Inca in Cuzco,
asked advice in the future
coquetry and distant future and the future of your Tobolsk
around, and I found myself on the beach
in the arms of a Marquis blond and blind and helpless
and wise.
Dimitri, I did a clean sweep of the order of items and money
thirteen new signs to my horoscope free galaxy star
. I skipped
rungs on the ladder, and I hear the laughter of Jacob
through the cracks of the universe.
"uncommon"
A Alberto Augusto Miranda, Lisbon, popularizer of the neologism
was the day that the desire and the war went into eclipse, I saw the slow
foot caravan on the land-hungry
dead, the best and worst
of the species, forever torn. About
I watch the disintegration of atoms (dense
the matter, the soul's light, with foresight Democritus)
and the nuclear explosion of a poem, useless
strategy for battle, the end of the riot, tumult games
or love. Remains wet wash of hatred, I have collected
boudoir secrets, no longer see the object
or desire, eternal mummy (like atoms, Lucretius
tender) of my sweet animals prehistoric beasts
my soft uncommon, decades
brooding nostalgia for the times. Was this
the nature of things?
disarmed the heart of the clock, Big Ben atomic, biological
people to love, gave her children, aged
what is perceived in the mirror storied running
Achilles and the tortoise, when they started die
dispersed, a white memory
sixties or coffee grounds where the atoms do not read the caravan
faint wandering, or country or the illusion founded on the new moon, marked
my old decks Alzheimer's sleeve. Delira
matter, nature is a giant vertigo
to flee a line, trap zero, the universe.
HISTORY LESSON
We
together the living and the dead, come
by the Silk Road, a hundred thousand
children of all saints,
ready to cross the Pyrenees. We bring all five senses
crimped in the collar of the dove, or
hand suspended in the Lady and the Unicorn. We play
Wars of Religion,
versatile as arguments in the Chinese Rites Controversy.
They wanted to see Margaret of Angoulême, queen of Navarre?
Here it is. The white face, Sagittarius lime wrapped his black cloak,
alone, away from mascula tragic mother and daughter, watching us.
During the fifty-seven years of his life
want to understand: "The meek shall inherit the earth
." Like us, she is transfigured into ring
lunar eclipse of the sun are still
veils on the ship of exile, white bandages on his face
Queen, the glaze fanstasmal in the last picture. Sometimes the dead
embrace us, we are young in a cafe
Montevideo (L'Eclisse Antonioni was
1962, the silence of a summer night in an industrial city
where
still hear the sounds of nature insistent .) We
between life and death, we weave the tapestry of Bayeux bellicose
patience to cover the walls of the cemetery, the world is a bare ground
hit by the wind. And look at the sky.
still keep pictures of the eclipse, such as maps or
Tarot Trumps. One way to see
bad pictures developed, or are floue, we move
edges. Ci-git François Ducasse, but Isidore's son lies in prints
radioactive meteorites electrically charged
Uranus, Aeschylus Turtle
fall on Uruguay. I am the youngest of the dead,
reconstruct the world in my history lesson and kiss the sandal
Empedocles, in silence after the explosion. The local
sun eclipse October 28, 1536
lasted 2 hours 24 minutes (we know today.) Marguerite de Navarre Pau
stared with his dwarf who read Hebrew.
Nostradamus was 33, and the eclipse was coming from before, overlapping
through the dark night (soul, it was known then) So
as the memory will last and be bitter. Montevideo
witches come the dawn, the new words, sounds of nature
west of San Pablo, keys in hand
to rotate clockwise and persevering
Book of Hours of exile
few of reconciliation. Margarita
read what does not, did not believe in transubstantiation
or the intercession of the Virgin, but he knows that the meek are werewolves
during the eclipse.
After
stay fixed forever as the queen in her black cloak, which used to pose
the austere halls of Nérac, photos
buried, bones on the cards Celestial
these jewels of the ancestor in the race.
DAILY HUNTING
lasted all night.
sailed beyond the columns, far
forests where a goddess laughs
stars out of memory pointed to lunary. I would steal the petals
to carnivorous plants in the garden of delights. Stalking
on the hatch, threaded collars
vegetables for the crew of ephemeral throats. My fingers are nimble
sinuous line in the Elzevir:
These are the rivers of Babylon, climb
in search of oblivion and become
always proud as a planet. Sometimes I
stop the hanging gardens of the empire, and army
death in my last tournament of falconry. Centaur me
tapered teeth and nails, I have thirteen
greed full moons, and the trip only remember a few charts
sunken
a hunt high and the singing of the sailors.
El Vergel and LA LAGUNA
I also went to see me in the lagoon, next to the garden still, the berry
solemn as hosts. I was and was the past, the surf,
bad feeling the first day of a banishment, kissing my turn
abandonment as he lay the Lisandro sword,
winning battles in the bank. I saw the fruits of time
in still life, my flavor of old
ordeals, both hands and a circle of black
latiéndome moons in the chest. If you turn right fingers
wielding the knife, burn injured by spinal
and twitch as the Peloponnese.
With the left sink the nails into the flesh, mummy without color
bitten by a God and four men,
two soldiers, two thieves beautiful as the crime.
A gadfly and an angel flying over the lagoon, I'm drowning
on the back of the dimly lit world
behind the skin of the fruit.
PENANCE
Paso
night
ordering reckless games of insomnia, I skeins
with loose silk threads in my sambenito. I say pity. I've woven between the ribs
the two wings of San Andrés, cross-stitch
an old talisman against remorse.
rained. I hear the leak in the kitchen while praying for the emergence
bright again, my mother, the walls of Ur
wet on the sand, the slaughters my warm blanket, geese
beheaded on Capitol Hill. I want to return to the womb veil
and motionless on the canvas of poisonous spiders. The story
one by one, until they succumb hungry as thoughts.
Prayer. The leak does not yield in the kitchen. Laying
giant like I'm white and repentance. Live for the asking. Sorry for the memory
porous sand
forgiveness if my ear sink into the pillow of feathers floating
and I hear behind the wall, Amen.
SQUARE MATRIX " die a silent and thought a wound " Delmira Agustini
At night I went into the source of the frieze,
did not want to leave the maze, long time I turned around
dumb thinking like a wound,
and one speaking, Delmira,
but did not want to hear. Follow the vertical shadows
or were saints floating underwater warriors
sidereal suspended
thought and said something about the creatures of the dawn,
the half-open wings and stiff as a threat, or perhaps
impostors were wings, springs from the tules
moon. The arrows of Saint Sebastian were still burning between palms
submerged and I went down the thought bubbles
missed by mouth, lines, white potions of Cosmas and Damian
wandering in the water. Matrices
pain, my foot tangled in the seaweed, fish
were predestined to the wound. Hodie
Martyrs always said,
saw them sink, and I fell
time in the wound, the wound incubated for the future:
Here are the slimy mollusks Hodie,
comes back the past, abandoned shells
where it hides monstrous
a king surrounded by the towers.
The dead and the saints sailing aimlessly
the days of my time to land and then die
Gaeta strangely Delmira
morning and emerge from the source to hear the trepidation
dust on the road.
Baldon
"Bubbler Titus D'un autre dans lui-même "
Racine. Berenice, 272.
If it was a mocking poem and untimely
why floated before me,
supernatural useless living water? Why
spoke of the sea if the dead were around forever
planetary beaches, while I burned
lost in the tide?
syllables and I burned out phrases or ashes of my other
myself
the dead left me when I most needed. Roque
the inventor was sinking in my poem, Tues
ghost which is always before the start and too late Jorge
claim the promise between the lines, open chest
siren crying.
"And I myself, the other tangled octopus letters, not knowing
nor write what inks stuffed seagull
tattooed on the nape of Jean,
pilot still in his coffin for the body, while Myriam
decries a broken bone bitten by the wind?
And William, splendid and suicide
drains memory for me to drink? And the drowning? One more convicted
navigate
always loaded from the sea at your back? If the beaches
welled from his eyes, if they were dumped sidereal
arcs in the ring, the dark swamp
myself, why do
verses out of time with my hangover bitter? How do I keep
interim rule
myself alone in the shame and sooner or later the last
poem?
CANON OF ECLIPSE
Between the third and second millennium BC, the Chaldeans, and had found that every 223 lunar months, ie every 18 years and 11 days, there was a fixed set of eclipses of sun and moon. The Greeks called this cycle with the name of Saros, the Assyrian Sharu, "repetition." Today, the lists of eclipses sun and moon included in addition to the Saros cycle, before unpredictable, and published in books called the Canon of eclipses. The best known is that of Theodor Ritter von Oppolzer (Prague, 1841, Vienna, 1886). Its first edition appeared in 1887, LII volume of the Memoirs of Mathematics and Natural Sciences, Imperial Academy of Vienna. In this canon are 8000 and 5200 solar eclipses lunar eclipses. Are not yet eclipses of the moon in shadow.
[Thales of Miletus, Hipparchus, Sulpicius Gallus] Oh superhuman giants, who surprises the law of those great gods and release the spirit miserable mortals, who now looked terrified misfortunes eclipses or some kind of death of the stars, fear that the eclipse of the sun, as is known, inspired Stesichorus and Pindar, those sublime poets, and now believed that the moon was the victim of witchcraft and went to his aid with dissonant noise -for having feared the phenomenon of ignoring the cause, the Athenian general Nicias did not dare take your fleet and ruined port and the power of his country, honor to your genius, interpreters of the sky, you whose spirit embraces the whole of nature, inventors of a theory that gave you victory over the gods and men!
Pliny, Natural History, Book II, 9.
happen that day
Says the Lord Yahweh-
that in broad daylight, I will sunset
and cover the earth with darkness in the light of day.
trocars in your party duel, and chose
all your songs;
in all loins, and baldness
bag put in all the heads, I will
as an only child
duel and end like a bitter day.
Book of Amos, VIII, 9-10
ECLIPSE
would know that that night, the rattle of
limestone lying in the cave, quietly
wolves and men hand craftsmen, so
skilled in the art die.
And you, out there hurt you surprised by the stars?
throb no longer, they are not fleeing fugitive souls where a passion, this time born
eclipse opalescent eggs, waiting to be opened in the derrrumbe
. Fall upon the earth you stepped, hollow planets
of the first square, broken stones at the window that there were stories with your old
hunting scenes in Nineveh.
The time came, you saw too the parchment in your sky.
You know your chest or heart negative charges no family or anything
sacred, Freesia irremediable, only this time made of blue oyster, pearl
waning (do not repeat the bad luck in eclipse) which was reborn
always your father, inquiring
vain for a son, his message over time, fingerprints on the glass
future clouded and you, bottle into the sea, I swallowed the whirlpool,
dorsal from the Apennines to the plain.
not we look in detail, it
was the future, I knew refuge in the belly of the Bison:
were man and wife, and the sky was a desert half hour
where the fire burned cold in your bones, and was
would not have written
edges or destination or hope to die surrounded by your children, the semicircle
harassed from before birth. Do not see you stroking his soft skeletons,
your children killed (crying girl), songs to dance between the teeth
paper Chinese dragon, as tame as the moon rock
the anniversary, new born,
were the last shadows of the eclipse, while the rattle, Freesia, I keep waiting
cracked between your hands.
THE PERSIAN
According to Herodotus, Xerxes's army had ceased
Sardis Road at Salamis,
as the sun began to leave their place in the sky and disappear
. The day, calm and without a shadow of a cloud
was transformed into night. The sun
took the sapphire color and, looking at each other,
men were pale as death.
All things seemed to bathe in a dark vapor.
The amazement and horror seized the hearts of those young men
. Xerxes saw the prodigy,
followed him closely and asked his magicians
what it meant. The sky, he responded,
announced to the Greeks the destruction of their cities
for the sun, they said, is the star prophetic of the Greeks,
and moon the Persians. Xerxes, suspended,
are delighted with the response, relieved his men relying
with words and not be silent, never-ordered Herodotus
Back on the road.
the death was understood:
die of an eclipse, eternal as sapphire,
and we will return to the moon while a chorister
recite our names.
was only for that which we live.
Xerxes died in the palace, killed by a traitor.
NAUTICAL
Sunken Nicias, shipwrecked in caution, Nicias
Athenian general fool,
said Pliny the Elder and toothless: Quo
pauore ignarus causae Nicias Atheniensium imperator, Portuguese classem ueritus
educere, opes adflixit eorum.
"Understand now? You ruined your own country by an eclipse vain, you feared him
in the light of old movie, the matinee on a fleet
and did not come out for bad, the port. Bad press
the military, Nicias,
only poets remember you.
Pindar Untimely
Eclipse of Thebes, "the brief return again
exile to turn the sun Montevideo? You bring you the announcement
another war, ruin our crops
, some nameless
snowstorm which hide the trembling of the tyrants, or overflow of the sea
come to empty peninsula in? Will the ice
on the open or summer southerly winds will
sudestadas spill into angry?
you going to flood the land and expel the terrified men?
"then another race will be born among us? "And we again
borderless ghosts under the penumbra?
EVENING IN THE TOWER
"Ursula punctures the team Boyun " Julio Herrera y Reissig
See? Always rumbles before the flight, sudden collapses
afternoon. Ursula and not punctured Boyun
the team and still sleeps in the thick gloom
. A tundra? Hidden snapshot:
"Une station sur le Rio Balnéaire the Silver, 1900 "
or earlier when forests succumb to flight
the mound the sea. Do you see a jellyfish on the beach like giant
grief? Ursula "question? What dead language
souls take?
punctured the night, dinner, the blind suddenly.
A fly disturbs the orbit night
is lost, buzz.
PREPARATION OF A DINNER
with iridescent eye China Doll,
the seamless silk like skin, jade assayed
reflection of the veins, birds resting à
the CAMPAGNARDE.
contemplate long interrogation lujurioso cuello de los
ejecutar hasta con la fine art cisoria dexterity.
examine them on her wings marquetry del carver. El
abanico of malachite Tirzah
las respuestas hides.
HYGIENE
eye long the body of a poem
to lose sight of the body other than
Ana Cristina Cesar (Anna C.)
apagones y lluvia la noche del
eclipse, if at
pudo see anything. En
me dry house, thomas cafe oscuro y con la manga
me limpiaba
la sangre en las de un comisura verse of Anne C.
Mendeleev's table
Dimitri Ivanovich Mendeleev
(Tobolsk, Siberia, 1834-St Petersburg, 1907)
Dimitri Ivanovich, my point: I confess, I'm Desencontro
lately, I was confused
lunations, I knew I cheated
the lonely, and I play closes regular scale
fingers.
not sleep at night, and go around the table
the rarest metals and heavy
tiredness that you planned millennium without knowing name,
mineral salt, that of the statue.
I was pressing with fingertips,
lovers found hidden behind the bluebells was between the threshold and the sky and saw
the geniuses who passed down the cypress to touch boys.
also looked at the atomic
belly of the crosses and arrows, open under the full moon:
is cursed so much that they loved. Then I was a lover
metaphysical (was tired) and absorbed
Values \u200b\u200bwith dry lips.
I dressed up as a shepherdess in the Second Empire and consulting historian
tables Doré engravings. My profile was Greek and entertained
sonnets with the wool of sheep that stole
Virgil. Crimp
had plucked from precious metals,
and others who were not beautiful, Dimitri,
I confess but they were my salvation.
Then came the fall, and volatile metals, the wine
dizzyingly the dream of the gods, I diverted the hands
south
Marquesas Islands!, Shouted the luggage scale rebuild
inevitable. I talked
relieved with the Inca in Cuzco,
asked advice in the future
coquetry and distant future and the future of your Tobolsk
around, and I found myself on the beach
in the arms of a Marquis blond and blind and helpless
and wise.
Dimitri, I did a clean sweep of the order of items and money
thirteen new signs to my horoscope free galaxy star
. I skipped
rungs on the ladder, and I hear the laughter of Jacob
through the cracks of the universe.
"uncommon"
A Alberto Augusto Miranda, Lisbon, popularizer of the neologism
was the day that the desire and the war went into eclipse, I saw the slow
foot caravan on the land-hungry
dead, the best and worst
of the species, forever torn. About
I watch the disintegration of atoms (dense
the matter, the soul's light, with foresight Democritus)
and the nuclear explosion of a poem, useless
strategy for battle, the end of the riot, tumult games
or love. Remains wet wash of hatred, I have collected
boudoir secrets, no longer see the object
or desire, eternal mummy (like atoms, Lucretius
tender) of my sweet animals prehistoric beasts
my soft uncommon, decades
brooding nostalgia for the times. Was this
the nature of things?
disarmed the heart of the clock, Big Ben atomic, biological
people to love, gave her children, aged
what is perceived in the mirror storied running
Achilles and the tortoise, when they started die
dispersed, a white memory
sixties or coffee grounds where the atoms do not read the caravan
faint wandering, or country or the illusion founded on the new moon, marked
my old decks Alzheimer's sleeve. Delira
matter, nature is a giant vertigo
to flee a line, trap zero, the universe.
HISTORY LESSON
We
together the living and the dead, come
by the Silk Road, a hundred thousand
children of all saints,
ready to cross the Pyrenees. We bring all five senses
crimped in the collar of the dove, or
hand suspended in the Lady and the Unicorn. We play
Wars of Religion,
versatile as arguments in the Chinese Rites Controversy.
They wanted to see Margaret of Angoulême, queen of Navarre?
Here it is. The white face, Sagittarius lime wrapped his black cloak,
alone, away from mascula tragic mother and daughter, watching us.
During the fifty-seven years of his life
want to understand: "The meek shall inherit the earth
." Like us, she is transfigured into ring
lunar eclipse of the sun are still
veils on the ship of exile, white bandages on his face
Queen, the glaze fanstasmal in the last picture. Sometimes the dead
embrace us, we are young in a cafe
Montevideo (L'Eclisse Antonioni was
1962, the silence of a summer night in an industrial city
where
still hear the sounds of nature insistent .) We
between life and death, we weave the tapestry of Bayeux bellicose
patience to cover the walls of the cemetery, the world is a bare ground
hit by the wind. And look at the sky.
still keep pictures of the eclipse, such as maps or
Tarot Trumps. One way to see
bad pictures developed, or are floue, we move
edges. Ci-git François Ducasse, but Isidore's son lies in prints
radioactive meteorites electrically charged
Uranus, Aeschylus Turtle
fall on Uruguay. I am the youngest of the dead,
reconstruct the world in my history lesson and kiss the sandal
Empedocles, in silence after the explosion. The local
sun eclipse October 28, 1536
lasted 2 hours 24 minutes (we know today.) Marguerite de Navarre Pau
stared with his dwarf who read Hebrew.
Nostradamus was 33, and the eclipse was coming from before, overlapping
through the dark night (soul, it was known then) So
as the memory will last and be bitter. Montevideo
witches come the dawn, the new words, sounds of nature
west of San Pablo, keys in hand
to rotate clockwise and persevering
Book of Hours of exile
few of reconciliation. Margarita
read what does not, did not believe in transubstantiation
or the intercession of the Virgin, but he knows that the meek are werewolves
during the eclipse.
After
stay fixed forever as the queen in her black cloak, which used to pose
the austere halls of Nérac, photos
buried, bones on the cards Celestial
these jewels of the ancestor in the race.
DAILY HUNTING
lasted all night.
sailed beyond the columns, far
forests where a goddess laughs
stars out of memory pointed to lunary. I would steal the petals
to carnivorous plants in the garden of delights. Stalking
on the hatch, threaded collars
vegetables for the crew of ephemeral throats. My fingers are nimble
sinuous line in the Elzevir:
These are the rivers of Babylon, climb
in search of oblivion and become
always proud as a planet. Sometimes I
stop the hanging gardens of the empire, and army
death in my last tournament of falconry. Centaur me
tapered teeth and nails, I have thirteen
greed full moons, and the trip only remember a few charts
sunken
a hunt high and the singing of the sailors.
El Vergel and LA LAGUNA
I also went to see me in the lagoon, next to the garden still, the berry
solemn as hosts. I was and was the past, the surf,
bad feeling the first day of a banishment, kissing my turn
abandonment as he lay the Lisandro sword,
winning battles in the bank. I saw the fruits of time
in still life, my flavor of old
ordeals, both hands and a circle of black
latiéndome moons in the chest. If you turn right fingers
wielding the knife, burn injured by spinal
and twitch as the Peloponnese.
With the left sink the nails into the flesh, mummy without color
bitten by a God and four men,
two soldiers, two thieves beautiful as the crime.
A gadfly and an angel flying over the lagoon, I'm drowning
on the back of the dimly lit world
behind the skin of the fruit.
PENANCE
Paso
night
ordering reckless games of insomnia, I skeins
with loose silk threads in my sambenito. I say pity. I've woven between the ribs
the two wings of San Andrés, cross-stitch
an old talisman against remorse.
rained. I hear the leak in the kitchen while praying for the emergence
bright again, my mother, the walls of Ur
wet on the sand, the slaughters my warm blanket, geese
beheaded on Capitol Hill. I want to return to the womb veil
and motionless on the canvas of poisonous spiders. The story
one by one, until they succumb hungry as thoughts.
Prayer. The leak does not yield in the kitchen. Laying
giant like I'm white and repentance. Live for the asking. Sorry for the memory
porous sand
forgiveness if my ear sink into the pillow of feathers floating
and I hear behind the wall, Amen.
SQUARE MATRIX " die a silent and thought a wound " Delmira Agustini
At night I went into the source of the frieze,
did not want to leave the maze, long time I turned around
dumb thinking like a wound,
and one speaking, Delmira,
but did not want to hear. Follow the vertical shadows
or were saints floating underwater warriors
sidereal suspended
thought and said something about the creatures of the dawn,
the half-open wings and stiff as a threat, or perhaps
impostors were wings, springs from the tules
moon. The arrows of Saint Sebastian were still burning between palms
submerged and I went down the thought bubbles
missed by mouth, lines, white potions of Cosmas and Damian
wandering in the water. Matrices
pain, my foot tangled in the seaweed, fish
were predestined to the wound. Hodie
Martyrs always said,
saw them sink, and I fell
time in the wound, the wound incubated for the future:
Here are the slimy mollusks Hodie,
comes back the past, abandoned shells
where it hides monstrous
a king surrounded by the towers.
The dead and the saints sailing aimlessly
the days of my time to land and then die
Gaeta strangely Delmira
morning and emerge from the source to hear the trepidation
dust on the road.
Baldon
"Bubbler Titus D'un autre dans lui-même "
Racine. Berenice, 272.
If it was a mocking poem and untimely
why floated before me,
supernatural useless living water? Why
spoke of the sea if the dead were around forever
planetary beaches, while I burned
lost in the tide?
syllables and I burned out phrases or ashes of my other
myself
the dead left me when I most needed. Roque
the inventor was sinking in my poem, Tues
ghost which is always before the start and too late Jorge
claim the promise between the lines, open chest
siren crying.
"And I myself, the other tangled octopus letters, not knowing
nor write what inks stuffed seagull
tattooed on the nape of Jean,
pilot still in his coffin for the body, while Myriam
decries a broken bone bitten by the wind?
And William, splendid and suicide
drains memory for me to drink? And the drowning? One more convicted
navigate
always loaded from the sea at your back? If the beaches
welled from his eyes, if they were dumped sidereal
arcs in the ring, the dark swamp
myself, why do
verses out of time with my hangover bitter? How do I keep
interim rule
myself alone in the shame and sooner or later the last
poem?
