The Mystic Poems
“A silhouette, winged biology without vertebrae, demands the flood. You laugh, but the jungles throw away their red bodies. They dissolve their flesh to be born again.”
You are not here
every night
although it fades
I drink your sweet
behind the world
my tongue pierces the darkness
and without eyes I bless your body
I can smell your breath
your legs on the cotton
these sheets
the grave where I now visit you
protects you from the waters of time
that wash our memory
The mirror
no one knows the other side of the mirror
not even the sage
nobody takes care
of those who wander
on its canvas
they are naked
in front of doors
from another land
in their dreams we see them
in their dreams they smell us
no one knows the other side of the mirror
an unnavigable sea of eyes
haunts for our flesh
the gate of reflections.
The death of all names
I can only hear music between the bodies
sacred sounds
doors
scars that reveal another world
a space where the death of all names
is our victory.
