A refugee
Like in a painting of a distant country
the country in a foreign film
where I live now
I’m alone with the trees
a refugee
among their crowns
I touch the rain that falls on them
moistening their bark
drawing planets
continents
on their trunks,
on the wood of a language
where everything is born
and reborn again
where the foreign condition
is a bush
that with its movement
says ‘come’.
Home
A clock pointed
toward the place
where an incandescent ring
touched the shadows
it was my room
floating in the night
my room
defending me from myself
my dark room
where I hide
the pyramids I dream
it was the space of a second
to be everywhere
to reach you
to touch you
to hear your voice
it was unreality
my true room
immense unreality
my only home
The Paleolithic Moon
It’s early
in the street crowded with people
there’s no sign of calm
We’re all foreigners
from the way we move
trying to match the rotational
axis of this place
a man looks into the shops
and ends up with a lost expression
the hole of being in error goes with him
he tries to outwit it
but maybe it’s the black hole
I look for the number 1718 running out of time
in this beautiful city where the houses
are from a film
Haste here has the meaning
of a delayed ship
with passengers that don’t want to arrive
because they no longer have homes
If it was night
the measurable phases
of the moon
and the longest moon
the Paleolithic moon
would be our home.
I love confusion
For Sheila Gallagher
After?
before?
it’s before
no, it’s after.
why do you get confused?
let me get confused
I love confusion.
Sheila laughs
while she goes on looking
at an owl among the trees
hypnotized
Sheila and the owl
exchange
celestial opinions
in the same language
the smoke from their tea
blends with the mist
and they understand each other
Confusion
looks at me kindly
it knows that everyone avoids it
I don’t.
Fortitude
The maelstrom of the world
brings us setbacks
and fortitude.
In the ocean
turtles
blend their swimming with the sea
and the magnetized thread emerges
that will return them
to the sand of their origin
The moon changes its phases
and in the world appears
a migration of butterflies
Here
on my shifting sand
I contemplate
expanses and expanses
of twilights and lilacs
the horizon begins
to modulate a song
we will sing it together
Translated by Rowena Hill
