Poems

Your whole body hasa fullness or a gentleness destined for me. When I move my hand upI find in each place a dovethat was seeking me, asif they had, love, made you of clayfor my own potter’s hands. Your knees, your breasts,your waistare missing parts of me like the hollowof a thirsty earthfrom which they … Read more

I am not jealousof what came before me. Come with a manon your shoulders,come with a hundred men in your hair,come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,come like a riverfull of drowned menwhich flows down to the wild sea,to the eternal surf, to Time! Bring them allto where I am waiting … Read more

Rise up to be born with me, brother. Give me your hand from the deep Zone seeded by your sorrow. You won’t return from under the rocks. You won’t return from your subterranean time. Your hardened voice won’t return. Your gouged-out eyes won’t return. Look at me from the depth of the earth, laborer, weaver, … Read more

Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad netstowards your oceanic eyes. There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,its arms turning like a drowning man’s. I send out red signals across your absent eyesthat smell like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse. You keep only darkness, my distant female,from your … Read more

Things get broken at home like they were pushed by an invisible, deliberate smasher. It’s not my hands or yours It wasn’t the girls with their hard fingernails or the motion of the planet. It wasn’t anything or anybody It wasn’t the wind It wasn’t the orange-colored noontime Or night over the earth It wasn’t … Read more

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Escribir, por ejemplo: ‘La noche está estrellada,y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.’ El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso. En las noches como ésta … Read more

Arise to birth with me, my brother.Give me your hand out of the depthssown by your sorrows.You will not return from these stone fastnesses.You will not emerge from subterranean time.Your rasping voice will not come back,nor your pierced eyes rise from their sockets. Look at me from the depths of the earth,tiller of fields, weaver, … Read more

And because love battlesnot only in its burning agriculturesbut also in the mouth of men and women,I will finish off by taking the path awayto those who between my chest and your fragrancewant to interpose their obscure plant. About me, nothing worsethey will tell you, my love,than what I told you. I lived in the … Read more

The names of God and especially those of His representative Who is called Jesus or Christ according to holy books and someone’s mouth These names have been used, worn out and left On the shores of rivers of of human lives Like the empty shells of a mollusk. However when we touch these sacred but … Read more

Leave me a place underground, a labyrinth,where I can go, when I wish to turn,without eyes, without touch,in the void, to dumb stone,or the finger of shadow. I know that you cannot, no one, no thingcan deliver up that place, or that path,but what can I do with my pitiful passions,if they are no use, … Read more