Dialogue of the Lovers
ISBN: 9798860841352Poems by piero scaruffi | Original Italian version | Purchase the book
Poem in three parts:
- Alef: 35 Cantos
- Apeiron: 35 Cantos
- Nil: 35 Cantos
Characters:
- 'm' : man
- 'f' : woman
- ' ': ?
Exhibits:
"La eternidad es solo lo que sigue, lo igual; y comunica por armonia y luz con lo terreno" Juan Ramon Jimenez
"de mes enfers pensifs les confins sans espoir" Paul Valery
"So leben wir und nehmen immer Abschied" Rainer Maria Rilke
"They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow through Eden took thir solitarie way" John Milton
"were all like workings of one mind the features of the same face ... characters of the great Apocalypse" William Wordsworth
"Do you not also observe that mountains distant from the observer appear to be black, while being in themselves other than the color seen? The cause is only the distance..." Ibn al-'Arabi
Alef
1. Monologue (Avanzo da secoli) 2. Monologue (Soffi sulle bolle morte) 3. Dialogue (Nell'amore l'umano) 4. Intermezzo (Un vento affilato) 5. Dialogue (Questo fiore che appassisce) 6. Dialogue (Non c'e` sentimento) 7. Monologue (Strisciano putride nel dirupo) 8. Intermezzo (Abbandoniamo la cava) 9. Dialogue (Sai) 10. Dialogue (Minio tatuaggi di sole) 11. Dialogue (Nasci ogni istante) 12. Intermezzo (Ombre genitali) 13. Monologue (La cartilagine di nuvole) 14. Dialogue (Una voce nasce dalla mia) 15. Dialogue (Repellenti rifiuti d'immani tregende) 16. Intermezzo (Non si puo` procedere oltre) 17. Dialogue (L'iride di prisma dei tuoi anni) 18. Dialogue (Le nostre labbra imbevute) 19. Monologue (Il tempo inabitato del futuro) 20. Intermezzo (Immergere queste parole) 21. Dialogue (Sono il fondo trapunto di vagiti) 22. Dialogue (Singhiozziamo) 23. Intermezzo (per mentire alle tenebre dal fondo del naufragio) 24. Monologue (La cocca di fibre sgualcite) 25. Dialogue (Esile tempo umano) 26. Dialogue (Giace) 27. Dialogue (Spento l'occhio nella conca) 28. Intermezzo (Lo squillo della ronda) 29. Dialogue (Fuor dall'orbita) 30. Dialogue (Avanzo nelle fronde) 31. Intermezzo (La corrente dipana) 32. Monologue (Al centro della meridiana) 33. Dialogue (Ti spoglio) 34. Dialogue (Noi, orgasmi) 35. Dialogue (Tendere il grilletto)
Apeiron
36. Dialogue (Ti ricordi) 37. Dialogue (Incatenati) 38. Monologue (Ho paura di volare) 39. Intermezzo (Un uragano di stelle) 40. Dialogue (Ho paura di volare) 41. Intermezzo (Il mare s'imprime) 42. Dialogue (L'oceano, in tutta la sua) 43. Dialogue (Nella luce falsa, incognita) 44. Dialogue (La citta` si distende verso) 45. Monologue (Ho paura di volare) 46. Dialogue (Nello sfondo sbiadito della fotografia) 47. Monologue (Abbiamo letto il programma) 48. Dialogue (La strada non finiva ancora) 49. Intermezzo (Non abbiamo ancora notizia) 50. Dialogue (Se l'universo intero) 51. Monologue (Non ho officiato alcuna di queste messe) 52. Intermezzo (Se solo sapessimo) 53. Dialogue (Deposto dalla croce) 54. Monologue (Scrivo con le ultime gocce d'inchiostro) 55. Monologue (Il volo radente di una gemma) 56. Dialogue (Ho risucchiato dentro) 57. Dialogue (Ombre di uccelli) 58. Intermezzo (Perche' quel bagliore che trabocca) 59. Dialogue (Nella piazza addormentata del castello) 60. Monologue (Nella criniera pezzata del tramonto) 61. Dialogue (Mi sgretolo, stonato) 62. Dialogue (Nella penombra abbagliante) 63. Monologue (Se spazi di sguardo in foschie pungenti) 64. Dialogue (Principio di illusione) 65. Intermezzo (Le stelle bianche minuscole) 66. Dialogue (Continua, continua) 67. Monologue (Lattici incandescenti) 68. Dialogue (Esaurito dal sole puro delle colline) 69. Monologue (E le foreste che abbiamo attraversato) 70. Dialogue (Siamo scesi insieme)
Nil
71. Dialogue (C'e` qualcosa d'importante) 72. Dialogue (Le tue guance bruciano) 73. Monologue (Sono gia` diventato qualcosa) 74. Intermezzo (Contavano) 75. Dialogue (Laggiu`, qui) 76. Monologue (Una spina d'oro) 77. Dialogue (Di quest'alba il sogno) 78. Intermezzo (tutto fonde e scola) 79. Dialogue (Procedo lentamente, nella speranza) 80. Monologue (Senza la dimensione) 81. Dialogue (Il mio segreto cantare a te) 82. Intermezzo (Il filo spinato di luci) 83. Dialogue (La vita non e` forse cio` che succede) 84. Monologue (La vita non e` di noi) 85. Dialogue (L'ultima onda ha avvolto la luna) 86. Dialogue (E noi non siamo, in cio', diversi da loro) 87. Dialogue (S'arrampica sui nostri volti) 88. Intermezzo (Il passero di cenere) 89. Dialogue (Ho colto, oggi) 90. Dialogue (cosi` lontani) 91. Monologue (Briciola di universo) 92. Dialogue (Mi hai dato) 93. Intermezzo (La verita` e` un pianto) 94. Dialogue (Arrampicandoci ciechi) 95. Dialogue (Vengono all'appuntamento) 96. Intermezzo (Dalla faretra trae una freccia) 97. Monologue (Una cosa abbiamo capito) 98. Monologue (Non vi e' in me pagina) 99. Monologue (Ciascuna di queste lacrime) 100. Monologue (Ti sei addormentata) 101. Intermezzo (Noi, forse soltanto) 102. Dialogue (L'eternita` e` trasparente) 103. Monologue (Tu sei) 104. Dialogue (E il tuo sguardo) 105. Monologue ()
First Part: Alef
1. Monologue
f: I've been marching on for centuries in this wind, lifted by a distant past, that conforms to the glistening creases of my sullen, weathered cape. In the snail of glowworms of the imminent dusk the cities I visited crowd up buzzing around my footsteps like flies on the carcass of a disemboweled cub. A wanderer lost in time will lead me to the imaginary place towards which I am walking. And memory, recoiling into a crystal dolmen, prostrate within the firs’ emaciated fronds turned like pages by an old woman’s timorous hands, has no other destination than that void of meaning. Being here is terrible.
2. Monologue
m: You blow on the dead bubbles
that have slumped
in the palm of your hand,
And it is as if you shoved me
towards other deserted places
in search of a question
to ask you, the first one of which
you know the answer.
I forgive you, in the name
of those infinite traces
that infinite parts of the universe
have left everywhere for us,
of those infinite traces
that are our future.
3. Dialogue
: In love humankind
loves his own destiny.
nor does he know which path,
which hole of earth,
which trinket of time,
which thump of a ripe fruit,
which moan and which gallop
in fragrances of spring,
which pack of comrades
ferocious at the chain,
which swirl of clouds
upon disheveled ramparts,
which bridge of rainbow,
which ribbon in the hair,
which knot of sunshine
on the creases of the eye,
which time-acrobat
balancing in the deserted marquee
(for how many centuries shall he
repeat the somersault
before he can elicit an applause
from the crowd of lurking days?
on that rope you clamber alone,
you, too, the last night
smiling tears to oblivion)
m: to worship (death before life,
fugitives from ourselves,
taciturn bodies wrapped in the terror
of our own embrace, a streak of light
from the agonizing orbits
headlong into each other,
we infinite reflections
of ourselves)
: (fecundates and refecundates)
m: Pretexts, only pretexts
to live a little bit longer
of that pretext, we
nausea of this life
without origins.
I want to disappear
in the silence of sky
of a dying child.
4. Intermezzo
A sharp wind, skein of hisses, sol-fas and twirls between dust and dust as between anvil and hammer.
5. Dialogue
m: This withering flower,
older than the green breath
of your iris, ephemeral
remains of a life.
f: What prompts us
to eternally wander
inside this body
already pregnant,
and perhaps already dead?
m: Sunset putrifies,
it knots together the city's rattled streets.
f: You cling, inebriated with the ecstasy
that scatters through your body,
until you fall and bounce back into the coffin,
groomed by one last kiss.
m: I hear the voice that calls me,
reminding me of my childhood.
f: Come, let's go home,
where I took my first steps,
to the place where nothingness
turns into something,
m: and running on water
f: come, let us go
to lay my future
in that too empty urn.
m: and the rite of silence.
f: There will be no square
that you will not know,
but in a land
that you will never reach
I will be waiting for you.
6. Dialogue
m: There is no feeling
inside our anguishes.
What are you feeling
in your asbestos shell
impervious to my gaze
behind the scorching grates
of your silences?
: Swishing at the end of the sky,
the caravan of shackled stars.
Dipping the void for delirium,
the moon in the foliage.
At the masquerade of our coitus,
moans and shrikes of the living
randomly scattered on the icy crust
and twisted in tenuous sounds.
Pregnant monsters set fire
to pyres of agonizing brains
that sink like buzzing shells
in the soggy sand of pleasure.
The transplant of the infinite
in blizzards of mutilated corpses.
m: The faint blood that gushes
from your eyelashes
coagulates in a whirlwind
of ever more faded horizons.
: Erected warts
in the gutted wombs
of their lovers.
m: In your dilapidated temples
there beats an unknown breath.
: The shivers of the wave
ebbing and flowing among the reeds,
swollen canvas of dead eyes.
Sniff carrion of stars
in the flickering sepulchral
firmament of tomorrow.
m: The smile, curled up in your lips,
of a date that we never made.
: From the crypt there rises a drunken face
buried in a sunflower of locks of shadows.
m: Bring to your lips the chalice of my existence
and empty it.
7. Monologue
: They slither putrid in the ravine.
A gem crackles in the cocoon.
The claw erupts from the margin
and pierces the membrane.
The prey slumps exhausted
upon the anemic lament of the corpse
that pokes it relentlessly.
A spurt of blood
last weep.
You too, drink from it,
oh sallow angel,
like wet-nurse milk
at death's breast.
Do crush in your fingers
the chrysalis of that howl,
you too resound,
like the bat
in the rubble
of its breath.
They spin thorns of dung
from her virgin guts.
8. Intermezzo
We abandon the quarry drained by our toil, blinded by open-air light and the vein that was not depleted shall nurture other mouths, root of darkness and lethal bait.
9. Dialogue
f: You know,
we were never born,
we are lifeless.
: Dense, tiny spiders
wallow in the fiery maw
that will give birth, squatting
at the feet of the throne
(she licks her mouth,
she touches her lower parts,
the eyes of the unborn child,
gouges them, swallows them,
and crashes the hanging snot,
the small skull filthy with placenta,
balancing herself unsteadily
on the umbilical cord).
m: Who has crossed the threshold?
: A draft of warm manure,
night without a star.
f: We are alone, a shooting star;
a metal beam, round.
: The candle shines mute,
time present rots obscene.
f: We enter, awake, the dream.
10. Dialogue
m: I chisel tattoos of sun
on the sharp edge of eyelid
that separates our horizons,
I varnish blindnesses with lies
in the tinning nymph crystal
that plows my gigantic eyes.
: The blizzard languishes in the paralysis of curtains,
pulsing concave slabs.
f: I endure with my heart in my throat
the blows of his cloak on my hips.
m: I trample on the sand
the winding track
of my return.
: We sleepwalk
in the desert.
f: From mirage to mirage
I hear reassembled
the faint echo of his delirium,
which I don't know I heard before.
: We retrace
in that light of guilt
the endless oasis
m: which I do not know I have seen.
11. Dialogue
m: You are born every moment
clinging to your stone,
barren clod of soil.
: A scream of rock,
a step into the flames,
a swarm of dried fronds.
: Light radiated from the crevasse,
dune of another shore,
advent of places,
halo gravitating
in the extinguished space.
m: You keep watch in the cold on your knees
over my corpse nabbed by fossils,
your effigy shatters in cascading shards
on the flashing shells of the snails.
12. Intermezzo
Genital shadows slash the bowels of the desert, animal cacti crushed in slipknot gazes. From a diamond cliff a lassoo of vultures clasps the bodies embracing in the armor of wind gored by a horn of sun.
13. Monologue
: The cartilage of clouds
probing the texture of the sky
drinks from the heat of the alleys
which groping hooks of the eye
roam without breathing.
The hill, supine on the plain
which is ablaze in crystals of smoke,
glitters from a sea-like distance.
Floating shells in the mud of brushwood
in a rhythm of cramped dunes,
of exhausted water pits,
in the universal scuffle of the levee
which is a levee of every levee.
Glimmers of the coital wreck,
golden juice on the bloody hem
of a faded colchicum,
coral mouth with the tuft of a butterfly,
snail's twig stretched from leaf to leaf.
The footprint of events runs rampant,
the emphasis and the whim, our fate,
of death, virgin chasm of imminent
light.
14. Dialogue
f: A voice is born of mine,
helmsman of lewd tears of sex.
f: He embosses his face in the quicksands
of the dream, raucous and satiated,
his arms around my neck, dreaming of intrepid
shipwrecks, kisses me in the mirror
and walks away grinning.
: Blind voices.
f: To flee the threat
(on the canvas embroidered by the lighthouse
the cold star rising in me)
I lift the chalice full of lava -
a spasm chisels a loathsome petal,
a frosty bud of remorse,
my toast a candid death rattle.
: An oscillating detritus of life
radiates from the intermittent breath of the fetus
to infinity like a speck of uranium,
f: I gather my knees in my lap
to groom myself as mangy as a bitch
in the foam of ringing ears of wheat.
: frayed eye, a lens of oblivion
spins from the remnants of the sun a burning ray.
f: A voice lifts off
at the zoo of perverse luxuries
of my silences,
once quenched our thirst
in whirlpools of rock.
: A cluster of limbs
lights up the invisible.
The last one.
15. Dialogue
: Time speaks to the eternal cells
in the aquarium.
m: Time rages around me.
: The world is
a crystal ball
in the trembling hands
of an old fortune-teller.
m: Dew that murmurs and unravels
gliding down the stem.
: Time climbs back, breach to breach, its walls,
ignites the pupils of hawks.
m: Must I
wait for an emissary to appear
with the map of my journey
sealed for me?
: Not the spark
that pops out of the calm bottom
and extinguishes all fires.
16. Intermezzo
It is impossible to proceed any further. The railway tracks funnel organic matter from one sundial to the other relentlessly. All around the crater in the gravel of the cosmic debris, in the blinding mist of their alien reflections, a gallop between sun and stone jolts, behemoth, the foundations of time.
17. Dialogue
f: The prismatic iris of your years,
rapping water at the porthole.
m: The whirlwinds of sludge
intoned for me,
f: or crusts of insects?
Life a putrid alley
that you travel afraid of getting lost.
m: how much of you
soaked in menstrual blood
f: You put out leaves,
endless flashes
icicles aimed at the sky of my breast,
m: in that circular moan ?
f: swooshing face snuggled
in the drenched seed of the shiver,
pale grief of the treacherous.
I probe the seabed of your mind,
lugubrious candelabra of thoughts
that scatters black sepia light.
I read on the stave of your pupils
the step in the fog of your torments:
you brood the impossible holocaust,
your scream splintered on the vaults
crashes in fetid dead-end tunnels.
: The phosphorous clock-hands of our grief
propagate us as stains in three dimensions
in the oceanic quadrants of the void.
: I whisper: perhaps.
18. Dialogue
f: Our lips drenched
in the poison of lies.
: From the fine dust of millennial silences
the throng of farewells and returns
stokes the loneliness of the stars.
m: Are you so fast
that I cannot see you ?
: Vertigoes of a star
squinted and hunched
that paws inside your future.
f: Our hope screeches
in the flames of your every cry.
: At the crossing every time-traveler
atones.
m: You inert fleeting present ruin,
eternal flight of mirrors
in the dark labyrinths
of the last seed.
: Adunc puffs of wing
in the wrecked belly of twilight
pecking at shooting stars
(clutching litter of windy bones in the air
all along the dive).
: Every going and every returning
is teeming with burials.
f: The mirror image
imprinted in your face,
howl at the world's throat
in the skeletal creekbed of mirages and wreckage.
: A ghostly laughter escapes with the horizon line
along the rim of the leash.
f: Your rape looms against a marsh of memories
into which one day you will burst voiceless.
19. Monologue
: Repellent waste of ghastly sabbaths,
the uninhabited time of the future,
etched on the pinhead of this perennial dream
(knot in the brain, gray matter of antennae,
image hung on the rout of the absolutes
in the mold that creeps on the edge of the abyss),
draws on the unknown and the infected suburbs of the mind
head on with the drift of the present,
absorbs light from the wisdom of the end,
in the shaft of the mass grave
hatches an ecstasy of debacles.
A skein of birds
spins in the glassy funnel,
funeral of lights, blood of rubies
sewn into eyelids
in the blazing boils of the contagion.
20. Intermezzo
... in order to lie to the darkness from the bottom of the shipwreck, to eradicate the compass, and the fingernail of feather, and, the lifeless arm left to dangle in the storm, the helm surrendered to the zenith of numbers, to close in a limit to infinity the chasm of the maelstrom, light for glass.
21. Dialogue
m: I am the bottom quilted by moans.
: Suddenly
the squinting eye of the belltower.
m: I hurl the echo against the wall.
In faint canopies of dream
I soar my bells,
claws,
gut of faces,
harnessed as a dragon.
With a rift from blankness
sharp swallows of remorse,
I planted in fire
beaming in your shrill agony.
: The elytra-like shudder
of an anonymous pain
that dies again.
22. Dialogue
: We sob
under the riddled
sallet.
m: They will converge, blue waves
from all directions of the sky
carrying in an invisible casket
the sound of her voice.
: We go on.
Against the uncertain background of dawn
dancing tinfoil moons.
m: We will arrive breathless
at the border between the fake and the real,
no longer knowing where each is.
: Submerged by the tide of doubt,
a new fear
will drown us.
m: We paw lying down
on the back of the armor
in the dazzling night,
our life a patch
for something eternal.
: With no shadown on the beach
how beautiful it is to be
without having been.
m: Don't get distracted:
this is the last one.
A fortune of years,
and ever more distant
sunsets.
: Eternity is what remains
when we are dead.
: In the light.
23. Intermezzo
To dop these words exchanged by chance inside the nightmare of coils of blades from the trampoline that still vibrates after the dive into the swampy swoon of the brain, and to blow into the blowgun the poison that will blossom on the lips of memory, to gild the dragonflies, their fragrant husks, in the tangle of brambles and garlands of vertebrae ...
24. Monologue
: The lump of crumpled fibers
of their somnambulant whispering
flutters,
lightly penetrates
a pond of shattered mirrors,
diamond nib that etches,
immune from madness,
at the other end of life.
By turnarounds of dreams,
of encrypted fingerprints
it looms,
gloomy pyramid of wreckage,
hieroglyph of frenzied crimes
etched in marbles, nocturnal
pallor of quivering pupils,
fatuous charm of languishing darkness.
The glimmer of an extinguished star,
frail vamp in the chalice,
takes turns
with the thunderbolt in the dark.
25. Dialogue
m: Feeble human time,
in the momentum of the shadows
that are swollen by the night.
f: Come:
We cannot remain any longer
in any place.
m: And future time,
when our future
will not be anymore,
and we'll have to restart
from the beginning, groping
for that thread of eternity
that we had glimpsed,
but not rolled up,
in the dim light.
f: Tell me:
could we possibly exist
without dying
in all that emptiness?
Even love
is nothing but a false eternity.
Let's say goodbye to each other
one more time.
Everything goes on
indifferent,
as if we didn't exist,
had never existed.
All feels silent of us.
We are this, we.
m: And time of the edge,
when you don't know what you are yet
and intoxicated you whistle to yourself
already vanished around the corner.
f: The drained oasis
that you call "life".
26. Dialogue
: Everyone
lies immortal
in her own desert.
m: The only meaning of our living
is to mourn our dead,
from whose epigraphs we were born
and to whose archaic childhood we shall return
in an era without captive years.
: I, who am god,
a skull wrapped in so much universe
and that many times have attempted suicide,
the extermination,
: A speaker blabbering into thin air
warns, last deft and mutation of the soul:
: I, abomination of centuries, know nothing but radiate.
: "Forward, forward! in the nest of hydrometras!"
27. Dialogue
m: The eye extinguished in the basin
m: Scents of brain
in the infinite shell
of your back,
overturned turtle
in the seabed of silence.
: Flaming tongues
like epileptic snakes
in the pouring rain
on scraps of lands
severed from the earth.
Peels of snow bury themselves
in the whirlwind of footprints
that follows the brook.
Currents of sky and shadows
sift through the echo's filigree.
A frost of boredom,
the poise of a lassoo of sand,
a piano scarred by the fingers of a ghost
in the empty auditorium,
pops of diamond petals
in the loges,
jaw
that knocks at the window,
an acrobatic spider on the fibers of the water,
cobweb of corals
in the riot of waves
resentful of the wind.
m: A heatbeat of folly
riddled with gangrenes,
an immortal flame
will grow out of your ruins.
28. Intermezzo
The blare of the patrol on the trapdoor of the gallows. He stands silent, besieged by the convulsed limbs of the trunk: the executioner.
29. Dialogue
: Outside the orbit,
veteran of follies of infinites,
he wobbles hideous
gagged by haloes
of evacuated worlds,
: my unearthed coffin,
m: That rabid evil in shackles
watches over the wagon's marks
hollowed in the indelible blood
of the alley that saturates our journey.
: sleepless throttles with breath
to the glare of an obscene relic,
m: Even the last sign
vanishes,
the last name
of this planet.
: Each dead walks beyond his death
and vanishes into mine.
m: I am living
without the need to say
the mute word,
unanimous.
: filthy trill
in a graveyard of futures,
m: Am I not time?
: devastation of the shadow
the rotten ones of here.
30. Dialogue
m: I lurch ahead amid the fronds
that recompose
in a slow and solemn
rhythm as the wind
sets.
The blooming sky swings
on the worn canvas
of scorching clouds
and on the absolute ashes
of my mind.
f: I carry the train of the dress
and loop the pearls
of your necklace
in the azure that I don't measure
with the mind, the arcane
reflecting space
behind which incomprehensible
creatures swim.
m: An unburied virgin,
I pull to the heart
my last seed,
exposed to the immense
roar of time.
31. Intermezzo
The current unravels the inert shadows of the wreckage: still shining on that ocean floor something of all of yesterday.
32. Monologue
f: At the center of the sundial I take in my fingers your hourglass lips and inflate the balloon flaccid of your face until it soars in the air and without thrusting a cry flutters inert in the wind. It bounces on the solar sand, it shatters, banner of mortals in the tragic duel, thrusting a shout that sends rolling breathless circles of water over my eye’s fragmented shell. Your gaze cries golden islands along the uncharted trail of our bodies.
33. Dialogue
m: I undress you, petal by petal, in the dim light of an ice torch that melts your eyes, bluer than mine; floating, on the swamp of kiss-quilted skin, on the tender flesh of the oyster. f: I turn my eye up, and affix it to the storm of our shadows on the vault of the globe, faint streaks of stars for crystal crepuscules, plummeting over a mirror of bubbles. m: I curl up inside the palm of your hand, in a cut of the crevasse where foam roars fertile of you, and scream until breathless your sharpened nails. f: Now your stem, crippled, cries warm dew; and with your lifted finger you point to our motionless shadows, coiled up on the chandelier.
34. Dialogue
f: We, orgasms,
erect brains,
homicidal orgasms,
m: we contemplate the monster
that rises from nowhere
at the groin of the tormentor.
: Throw the fishing line
in the puddle of virgin flesh,
tide of their corpses.
(A genital scream seals
the torture of a sleepwalker of life,
hoarse voice struggling in the visible
magnetized by the chasmic sphere,
whale of face vibrating
of immortal shards,
creeping through the expanse of mournings,
that proceeds derelict from the grave
to the earthquake of prophecies).
m: I kiss on the mouth
her severed head
that purges from the neck
blood and marrow.
f: I eat his vomit,
I baptize myself with his seed.
m: We, incomplete hemispheres
of an infinite distance
of sexual moans.
: You turned me,
burning with grief,
to relish my face.
m: The wavy stream of my sweat
on your blinding black squeal
35. Dialogue
m: Tightening the trigger, twisting the elastic band around the pin to charge up my hell, killing with a sperm bullet. : Obscene bodies of solitude clinging to the umbilical chord of desire (murky metaphysical animal), bodies desecrated by thought, injected with mystic shivers. m: Falling in the trap ravaged by jaws. : Look for a wing, a stone, a strip of sun from which to talk to me, without shame, with the tip of your gaze until from the edge of our coitus shoots creation. f: Dive your arms in the air, m: We never end f: opaque plates of pain, m: of falling f: mute stones of death. m: in the abyss.
Second Part: Apeiron
36. Monologue
m: Do you remember the hooked beak of that summit steep above reefs of ruby; the twin silences of that night, two drops of blood on a stroll through the veins of the medieval borough? and the rocks thrown in the clot of waves from the emptied beach; the quartz swans that we dissolved feather by feather in the lake; the vortex of creeping antennas on the roofs, which we felt vibrate in tune with us and the sunset; the blossoms of homes clinging to the barren wrinkles of the cliffs? us, wanderers in the atlas which life leafs through and points out.
37. Dialogue
: (Chained,
innumerable deities roam
these unlimited hinterlands,
with no memory of their words,
breaking the wave of time
with no other compass
than their own route)
f: All colors mutate
in the curtain of sunset
that slides slowly
on the starry rails.
m: I feel like a slinger
with the heart contracted
in the elastic strip of the slingshot
already stretched for shooting:
the projectile that spins
without hitting the target
in the branches of the mist
is the crystal ball
into which the soothsayer will gaze
to foretell my future.
: (And now that the fire could subside
there is no god coming to save you)
f: Barely a faint voice
for the path that fades
and the talisman of one of your smiles.
38. Monologue
f: I am afraid of flying
in this desolate land
where the rubble of the summer
leisurely putrefy
and the spring is a secret
known to a few, to be kept
at all costs.
f: I swing upside down from the trapeze,
howling northern winds to the primordial clouds
that agonize like barren concubines.
f: In your eyes I read
the last will of the cosmos,
your bequest of stars.
f: I am afraid of flying in the dreary withering
of the moon: who cares for a wrinkle of shade
in the narrow chink
when outside the fence a bonfire
is gaudily burning nonexistent horizons,
indifferent to the parade of sphinxes
that ascends the same sky?
f: In the sea is etched your white breath,
diaphanous cast of breakneck firmaments.
f: The last smile
of a reflection of water
lands on your cheek
like a gilded butterfly
on the most fragrant flower.
f: I am like him
torch in the catacomb,
will-o'-the-wisp drenched in
impossible gallops,
in kisses of dragonfly,
roll of twigs clinging
to a dead trunk of cactus
in the mud lit by the wind,
clockwork toy
blundering forward
by mechanical clicks
in the universal desert.
39. Intermezzo
A hurricane of stars on this crystal night orbits furiously over the steep tortuous and narrow alleys, crushed by the stone walls of churches and palaces that centuries of names could not change. The crowd chattering in the promenade fulfills the most sacred of rituals pawning itself to the eternity of silences, detritus to which the bedlam of the stroll gives a demented and ferocious voice. Unbeknownst to all, a wave underneath the porches and inside the decrepit doorways advances and swells, like a ghost with the same accent brandishing its claws everywhere: the swarming footprint of spirals, in an eclipse of ashes and bells, from the nefarious storm above.
40. Dialogue
f: I am afraid of flying, shivers of fakir jolt me: I tighten the band over my eyes. : But the miracles that fill the square, shavings of sun... f: the crowd a giant mocking me without shame, : idols of stone, beggars, fossil icons, in concentric spheres of ivory... f: Your face shines on a tinfoil leaf, and the magic words you pronounce for me escort my dreams in that sea of sparkles. : Picking a flower of ash from the stake: s/he loves me, s/he loves me not... f: In your eyes I read a poem that will last for the rest of my life. : backwards in time, alcove, cavern, ravine of lava. f: Holding your hand I will resume my journey from where I had paused it; and I will fly.
41. Intermezzo
The sea stamps itself in the rainbow, cold and sinuous, of distant lights that crawl accordion-like on the by now invisible slopes like the arched vertebrae of a rattlesnake. A knot of shivers in the dock of the landing jerks lifelessly the hull stranded in the remains of the harbor from which it had set sail. The incorruptible midnight siren blinks wrapped in her suit of fog, prostrate on the glint of the frost, glow of star calling for help, a point in the firmament of universal destiny, holed up in the honeycomb cell of an inaccessible bastion, ready to emit a shrill howl at the first puff that will fulfill the latent and perennial nightmares.
42. Dialogue
: The ocean, in all its spectral inutility, sends skeletons of algae and cyclops wrecking on the reef (in the transparent sheath our compass continues its clock-like motion). m: To catch the radiant clouds hanging like ripe clusters or like sharp cirrus from the sky. : The remoteness smeared with blood, of drunken and frenzied seagulls that fumble fan-like. They dig where they have hidden, extract emptiness from the air, throw memories out in space. The flight grazes the wave in the many nameless dwellings of their eternal childhood. m: Pebbles make mute circles in the blinded water. The gaze catches them fitfully at the bottom of gravel of sun, of putrid tangles of root. : The footprints on the beach stop in front of the gate that did not open. m: I turn the winch of the anchor under the upturned sail. : In order to decide the route?
43. Dialogue
f: In the false, incognito light,
ghostly, that bleeds
on the dull anagrams
of the sundials, you point at me
the distance of the sunset
as everyone's finish line.
m: We must assume surviving
the inanimate forms in the ark,
immune to the deadly virus,
blind fetuses radiating
ambiguous identities of tyrants
in the cloudbursts of the deluge
(and the water is a great
asthmatic mirror, fenced
by an unfinished margin).
f: I am afraid of flying
into the fertile pupil
of the cyclop, into the clamped
mouth of volcanoes that
are no longer bleeding.
m: Bandit, hermit, nake
blindfolded, the hands
tied, dripping blood
from a hole in the armor,
I crawl forward in the groove
my palm's life line,
certain in my heart
of the looming gallows.
f: In the multitude of confusing
signs, tattooed on the walls
by previous crowds
who crowded, sick
of immortality, the same
gloomy tunnel,
there is certainly inscribed
also this life of mine.
m: We all must in the space
of a dark instant
find again the course
within the mass grave.
44. Dialogue
: The city stretches toward
the blind light of the explosion
under the bridge of rubble
growing by leaps and bounds.
A torrent of wreckage
that flows without a sound.
m: I warm myself to the flash
flicking through the universe,
I lean out from the corolla
into a turquoise whirlpool,
upside down
I release my seeds,
I blow my rainbows
into the gleams of the merry-go-round.
: The storm flogs
the wax statues
that crawl bellowing
in the crumbling veranda.
m: A very wide circle
ripples the canopy
spinning on the pivot
of my pupil.
: The walls cancel the homes
from the filigree on fire.
m: I turn the limestone
to unearth the satiated worm
in a labyrinth of leeks.
: A finger of sunshine, basted
between two sheaves, scours
the torrent of petals which floods
the valley: the hurricane floats,
bloodless after the savage intercourse,
dragged by the current.
m: The needle of the compass dangles
like a fishing line without bait.
45. Monologue
f: I am afraid of flying,
dressed in thorns and seals,
inside the last blast
of granite.
I gather in my womb
the syllables that you unleash
of an alphabet that I do not know,
the heartbeats and the echoes
of air-less clouds,
which nonetheless will understand
where I lead them.
Shadows are born and die
all the time in every point, at first
senseless stains, opaque
mirrors, then forms, and names,
which confer meaning to persons
and things, and that vanish
into the jaws of other shadows,
in the noise that wilts.
In your eyes I have read
the gold of these nights.
I am afraid of flying
in the mind and in space.
In this circular night
I am even more mortal,
but perhaps something of me
will forever violate
your oyster husk.
The universe is
this vast luminous seashell
that repeats the tiny-shell buzzing
of your voice.
46. Dialogue
m: In the faded background of the photograph
taken from the terrace at dusk
the fragile halo of your sun shines through...
f: ...I eavesdrop on the dim crimson breath
of the eclipse, broken by a gasp
of fullmoon that gusts from deep
gorges within your gazes.
m: Flung by a burst of light
in the mazes of joy of the two
pupils that I clench in my fists,
in the quartz cast that gives shape
and voice to the relief of the firmaments,
I correctly guess in my solitude
the endless thread, the scheme
of pebbles, that will guide me
towards the center, to the pulpit,
to perform the miracles
that I have secretly tried for years.
f: I recognize in the first glimmers
of that no man's sky
the mold of your face.
And in the filaments of petals
that flare up like a fuse
on the ashen humps of ridges,
in the stray fumes of lanterns
that ascend those sinister slopes,
in the languid crumbs of mist
drifting among the islands of the lake,
I find again the thrills of an evening
that for you never existed.
m: The miracle will fail.
Nothing could give us
more meaning and life
than knowing how to read it
in one's own heart;
or in a blink of an eye
that eluded the lens.
47. Monologue
m: We've read the program
on the faces undone by weeping and fire
of the dead trembling in the blizzard
at the two fiery edges of the avenue.
Within life, we are some throbbing rags
in perpetual struggle with lightning.
Our eyes red with wind
are freckles blown on the dull face,
on the charred skull of the sun.
Our last breath
spins inside a mistletoe of screams
in whirlpools of millennial hovels.
Fasting in vice, in dark regret,
immune to the impossible, the superfluous diadem
of a paradox that we throw on the table
like the card sealing the game.
The parchment gilded by swarms of fescues
that crumples entangled on a branch
is all that is left for us
to study. The heartbeats
you can enumerate like the bounces
of the stone on the water.
I try to forget the faded crowd
of crucifixes planted in my memory
like tenacious roots.
48. Dialogue
m: The road still was not ending
inside the mountain's scaly skin,
the open maw in front of us
was breathing arabesques of mist.
f: We followed the liocorn footprints
to the edge of the world.
Having no wings, I did not jump.
And you, helpless, said nothing.
In that moment of silence
there was only the echo into the depths
of a call from birds of prey
slinging in flocks upon the game.
m: I caught you from the dewy stem
on a colchichi iceberg,
I blew away the honey smoke
that still wrapped you in the cocoon.
f: Crucified on the summit
in the grip of the full moon,
scoured by the rain
like bundles of rags,
of that brief apocalypse
we were occult deities.
49. Intermezzo
We have no news yet of the place where we have not by chance arrived, harbor or limit who knows, perhaps just a transfer station between one shore and the other, from one isle to the other (on this side it’s ash not sand the shoreline and spaces without borders searching without finding places with no name).
50. Dialogue
: If the entire universe
failed the step
in the filigree of my dreams,
it would be but the beginning
of a new dream. The habit
spreads through the cataclysms,
real and imagined, of the form
of existence that we have inherited.
f: On the crumbling perch
between two drunken pyres
the edict, the intrigue,
the gag of life,
acephalous like the wave:
I taste with my fingers
its jagged edges...
: It will not be the swallows
that have lingered
in a remnant of summer,
and which now chase
in the already faded wake,
to sing the call:
m: but rather a rustling from nowhere
of putrefied insects.
51. Monologue
: I have not officiated at any of these masses;
I do not know what your prayers speak of;
I know your language of thieves and murderers,
but I do not understand your animal sounds:
by writing poetry, I exorcise myself, I abstain.
These absurd, humiliated hearts,
camouflaged in the chaste, heartbreaking
cocoon of sunshine that unravels
on the surface of the water, dissected by sharp
blades of light, wrapped in the shrouds
of ever more distant horizons,
ever more opaque, shadows that
parade skirting the walls
studded with obscene graffiti.
These last scummy vestiges
of an epidemic that did not spare
the bamboo kennel of our
dreams, stare at us with no eyes,
inert in their gloomy vanity.
The web of souls,
the dust cloud of lives
disguised in the caverns,
draws voice and chorus
to a landscape of fragments,
to a threshold of confused whispers,
to an endless expanse
of nothingness: to the sound
of the future.
52. Intermezzo
If only we knew where this route leads, and why. If only we didn't know where we come from, and why...
53. Dialogue
f: Deposed from the cross
With intact palms,
he asks me for the way.
: I pick up a dry chip
and randomly let it fall:
if of all the paths it will point
at the old man, he shall be resurrected
and he will retrace his steps
to the temple, to preach.
Otherwise, on the hill
on his grain of fire
he will remain to pray
in the archaic idiom,
to babble alone
inside the storm.
m: In the drained space of the cemetery
Dusty tombstones tattooed with signs,
with withered sparks, with effigies,
with senseless lies, with invisible
realities, eternal mirrors scattered in piles.
: (Swarming in the crypts,
they fall silent when he enters
the enclosure, like tamed
beasts. Other shadows
cross the horizon)
m: From the embankment the voice hits them,
a frosty farewell, enumerates the vices,
and, lastly, condemns
those condemnations to count,
to be irreversible
rapes of love in the
infinite flesh of time.
54. Monologue
f: I write with the last drops of ink along the margin of the sheet of paper
which the prudish bites of the first flames mottle with bruises.
Emptiness quickly fills up with long caravans of signs.
My handwriting sways discontinuously, slants, twists.
Outside a shivering of candlelight jumbles the pebbles of time.
The endless lights of the columns of cars flowing
From end to end the city and its seabed of totem
Shine stronger and more tender in the eyes of passersby.
Line after line the writing moves away from the edge
And begins to encroach on the dunguarded spaces of the center,
that place of points adjacent to themselves that serves as a ford.
The drunken patrons scatter through untidy neighborhoods in unhealthy alleys,
the sound of myriad footsteps chasing each other through the night hovers
like the ticking of clocks over the lives of those who survived
the shipwreck who, despicable, watch from their windows the end.
The gallop of flaming crests presses on the paper lattice.
In a grain of light that inflates out of all proportion and devours my shadow
I hastily reread my last words, which will soon be ashes in the dark.
55. Monologue
f: The grazing flight of a gem
cracks the crystal of the lectern
lit under a helmet of pins.
m: At the silver ford of light
on the frozen sheet of the book
I stare stunned into the void:
I am afraid to understand everything.
f: At melting the infernal amulet,
the occult casket of our hearts,
waits for the clump of mosquitoes
that swells in the fireplace, on the pulsing
temples of the burning embers.
m: Affixed with the pin to the wall
a mirror without reflection.
No ray falls on the glass
capable of bringing color, there is no
signal to the world, nexus
between being and being
perceived.
f: I am afraid of flying
into the chasms of meaning
that you have dug for me,
inside the mounds of all
the reflections of my face.
56. Dialogue
m: I sucked into
the blue of my eyes
the tears that you
had entrusted to me.
: I bide my time until the pattering
crumbles behind me,
until in the primordial shell
there is absolute silence,
until the white word resurfaces
from deliria of lost horoscopes.
m: In the silhouette, riddled
with fires, of the mountain
an abjured idea of god will sprout,
inhibited dialogue of the dead,
enigma, castaway paralysis,
that will secrete, hourglass,
a finer sand.
It will fly, in the echo of your footsteps,
over the stilt homes and the wastes.
: The bleeding scimitar
of the moon will guillotine
on the sacrificial stone
of this nameless summit
a soggy puppet
of dreams: from the gash
there will drip the shaggy
fabric of the brain;
extinguished flower of ambushes:
of frayed plots
and of incoherent endings.
m: It will lie lightly
on the palm of your hand,
in a life line
that was fading,
and it will let itself be carried
by the current, like
a seagull seer
landed by chance on the river.
: Weeping and laughter
exposed by a crack
to the same light
will awaken, unanimous cry,
over the flames of the stars.
57. Dialogue
m: Bird shadows
catch their breath from the bottom
of the chasms,
an uproar of claws
and beaks
rises from nowhere,
an atrocious becoming
flesh and blood
in the riddled skeleton
of the world.
f: The signs at the fork in the road
invite everyone to head
to a location that perhaps
we have just left behind.
m: All we know of this life
is the labyrinthine chaos
of directions, norms and prohibitions
that in us is reincarnated.
With bowed heads we resume our way
along the outstretched arrow of time,
knowing full well that the bow was laid down
in the first thousandth of a second
and was never found again.
f: (But let us not forget to pay
at the dilapidated border post
the toll).
m: Distant figures decompose
at the far edge of light,
desiccated skeletons of cacti.
f: The whirlwind that runs over
the lucent thorns of the sand
vanishes inside the horizon.
m: In your eyes I have read
the last of all truths:
even the words that remain
at the end of the game
have a purpose.
58. Intermezzo
Why the gleam that overflows from bottomless nothingness, those windy wings in the glimpse of azure...? ...and the merciless beak for those few scraps of light ?
59. Dialogue
m: A last spasm of full moon,
that strains the surface of the bubble
until unhinging the delicate puzzle
of tiles, the living blocks of the mosaic,
harpoons our fleeting shames, the prudery
that you confuse with words we will not utter,
in the sleeping square of the castle.
m: Sparse crumpled shadows,
creeping all around us,
giddy, under lampposts
that smoke and waver
like candle flames,
that probe of those
mediumistic souls
the unholy depths.
m: On the sidelines, in the penumbra
of the gas station
as in an oasis in the desert,
our gazes will tell each other
the impossible shapes,
the enigmatic equilibria
of our history,
will trade immortal
whispers without breathing.
m: They speak on our behalf, in whispers,
the relics of these months,
the phone booth, like
a temple in the mist,
and the bus stop,
with the roof dripping
strata of silvery reflections,
the gate of the building,
the window of your house,
the life that I would chase
hopelessly from joy to joy
all the way to the antiquated haberdashery
that you dreamed of as a child.
f: One hand slips into the other,
I close my eyes and dare
kissing you on the cheek
and, under our moon,
my happy birthday.
60. Monologue
m: They stand out
in the dappled mane of twilight:
the finish line of the last chess piece,
and the hangman's sinister crown.
The dice thrown haphazardly
roll inanimate
on the blue tiles of the chessboard.
m: In the already immense vortex
that summons us to gather,
twining grasses on the dress-train
of rubble, drunken whales,
puppets of quicksand,
or birds of prey in the canyons,
fastened to the bark of the walls
by the suction cups of the last rays,
chess pieces scattered pell-mell, we hold out
our hand in the dark lest we miss
the next handhold in the already
microscopic moment that is left.
m: What am I in the roulette,
meteorite, virus, acorn,
transplant of star to stone,
hot air balloon bearing for ballast
the same gravity as the sun ?
Or the steel ball that spins
and bounces in the notches of the wheel?
What will become of me when
I will have flown, I will have carved
in the moon's halo
my wake like a signature,
and will land on the stale ground?
Will I be like the pinecone unhorsed from the branch
that towers over the accordion of dead leaves ?
m: Whose calligraphy of fireflies is it
that wrote in the night (the black
swamp where my steps sink)
those words so arduous to decipher?
61. Dialogue
m: I crumble, out of tune,
in the auditorium decorated
with friezes and stucco,
when consumed
each torch
the dignified audience
waits foreboding
for the curtain to rise
and a for stroke of the wands,
convulsing into the void,
to announce the start.
f: In the mind will remain
an unfinished void,
as of someone who left,
vanished without saying bye;
and over the years people will wait
for a sign that help find him again,
for the amount sufficient to ransom him.
: The musician searched in vain
in the lines of the stave
for a note to play: the plectrum
creeps lifeless over the sharpened strings,
descends along a trajectory
that has no end but itself,
and will produce no other sound
than this.
62. Dialogue
m: In the dazzling penumbra
of this flight of stairs,
flipping through the indelible
calendar of my steps,
vast remnants of the past
walk towards me,
sordid slander
the flashlight I hold
in my heart.
m: The suffocated tuning fork
of your voice
tries in vain
to intone mine:
the weak scaffolding
that does not creak
under the weight of the roof
has no support.
f: Memory seals
the scars, the gaps
that opened in the bustle
of fugitives. In the ashes
a kindled spark,
emaciated cell, gibbous
bubble, divining germ
in the speckled spectrum
of the hemorrhage,
on the blooming cartilages
that the fire cloaks
with bloody bandages.
m: In the circle of my years
I swear I have found
nothing that could exonerate me
or explain me.
63. Monologue
f: If spaces of gazing in stinging mists
I wonder if you and the radiant footsteps
that lead me to you, if the spell
of the deep hibernation to which you confide
not even the lie of a silence,
oh vitrous gloom of deformed peel
on the fruit conceived in babels of implants,
a tooth of rock, a diamond, if that
extreme grain of congealed life,
seed, at breakneck speed in the veins, the sap
in the suppurating sore, if sweat
ingrown in the skin, if the plasma
of origins in vials of craters,
if they could be worth as much as
the bone rolling in the wind
bewitching of early autumn,
it too a well-known sign,
hieroglyphic on unlatched papyrus,
feather of recluse time,
whistle that was hushed too late
in the whirlwind of ashes
by the highest and most solemn delirium,
and perhaps also superfluous:
the skip in the circle, the plunge
into nothingness, with open arms and
with closed eyes, of the setting sun
that does not want to die.
64. Dialogue
m: Beginning of illusion
or lace of butterfly,
the gentle white breeze
that encircles the mountains
in a heart of steel?
f: The footprints of our steps...
two parallel stripes of dots
that are lost on the dunes,
that enter the fog
of a zodiac of futures.
m: Where we will discover tightly embracing
the only way to speak to the world.
65. Intermezzo
"The tiny white stars of a snow that will never melt, the razor-sharp crosses that flow through the veins slowly inside the core of the Earth, and delusions of blue stones nestled in the depths of the sky " thus, behind a shadow of golden stigmata, the voice in the storm of the argonaut.
66. Dialogue
f: Go on, go on
in the memory,
night, arrow of remembering,
that darts from nowhere
on all itineraries
of my life, on the bare wires,
on the laces soaked
with anonymous forms,
on the scratched circles
of our shivers.
m: In the thorns of my eyes
I have thrusted every sun,
every horizon; in the
lulls of my heart
I hid all the lights
of the roads that I have traveled.
: The iceberg floats on the light
of this flower, standing up
on the sod that begot it.
The fiery mane gallops
towards the center of the earth.
The empty sleeve
hangs from the cross.
f: I will fling my scream
into the fulgent roar
of the fleeing flock.
67. Monologue
f: Incandescent lattices
of pain,
lightnings and phosphemes
twisted
in the womb
of life,
crevasses damp
with foam
exhaling
exhausted rattles
of meaning,
fossilized stigmata
in the sealed ampulla
on the decayed
altar,
the wind ...
the wind ...
reliquiae and shipwrecks
of history,
of humans
in the panic
of convulsed pupils
battered by the light,
the quicksand
of the aquarium
of each of our,
your
gesture.
68. Dialogue
m: Exhausted by the pure sun of the hills, this journey in the transparent obscurity halts on the threshold of the city. f: My fate in a different manner shall speak to the dusty toy of worn out snake skin which, bearing my name and face, already thinks of sailing away like a star at sunset. : I freed myself from the tangle of inert arms which exploited my body for their macabre rites. Now, in the cold shroud of this last darkness, just like the deep beat of the heart, overflowing with endless ripples, runs on tinfoil waves towards the free shore, louder thump in the silence the distant steps, inexistent, on abandoned paths.
69. Monologue
m: And the forests that we crossed
holding hands, and judging
the sins of angels holed up
in leafy alcoves and bark crevices,
absorbed in the flights of butterflies lit
by dew in the wrinkles of the dawn,
inside the veil of radiant mist
that was climaxing amid the patient tremors
of the breeze; at the deceptions of the shadows
on the blond earth imitating the sound
of the heart of swallows that migrate
in the innumerable echoes of the flock,
weaving, with the troubled trails
of distant chimneys, sunsets
and breaths of planets that we have
lulled in ponds of kisses....
And the scars we have reassembled
in the mausoleum-style vaults of the countries
that we visited... Stealthily
we have lived another life, the one
that we were not supposed to live. It is this
sky that cues us, these vipers
of frost that twist themselves
at the rainbow. The kite throbs
blurred; the sun in rags, furtive
under a curl of remote snow,
is reflected in the fogged dial
of your watch.
70. Dialogue
m: We descended together
in a sense
into the center of the crater.
We arrived together
where we wanted to arrive.
Everything is burned, lava.
I caress you sobbing.
f: A lone girl
on the threshold ofthe world;
who no longer has a name.
m: A bright shiver
of butterfly, boundary
of unfinished silences.
I dip my lips
into the warm mold
of your cheeks,
a hundred tiny fingers
play with my face.
I detach with my gaze
from the cluster of kisses
a grape of saliva,
honeycomb cell, crystal
tanned by the primordial
fire of a tear
in the perfume of rose
overflowing summer
of one of your smiles.
: In the twin shadows, it subsides:
the anguish of two virgin
breaths, shipwrecked in
the memory, lulled in the beats
of each other's hearts.
Third Part: Nil
71. Dialogue
m : There is something important, on which my future depends, that I should tell you, but, I know, I will not find the courage to tell you. There: I told you. f : Then you know where to find me, or anyway how to find me, or at least if to find me, if to run away from me or shun me, in that labyrinth of “ifs” in which you all got lost.
72. Dialogue
m: Your cheeks burn
the snow of your gazes.
f: Balancing over labyrinths
of virgin mirrors,
our bodies speak to each other,
exchange messages.
f: A blizzard of syllables,
tuned with the blinding
whiff of life,
rummages through the fragments
of the shell
of their embraces.
f: They beat like elitra,
the dull strokes of a pendulum,
the ecstasy of an agony
that is within time,
eve of eves,
climbing on the chains
of darkness, beyond the fleeing
void that encircles
m: on that little white bed
the glue of your smiles
in the lightnings of dawn
f: and your face that sinks
into my eyes.
73. Monologue
m : Have I already become something
that has been and will never be again,
ever again?
74. Intermezzo
They counted on this land the moons. They walked with the secret step to pick thorns in the brambles crackling on the rickety scaffolds of their lives like a trickle of dried leaves, syllables of light as large as waves.
75. Dialogue
f: Over there
here
everywhere
or nowhere:
m: we don't know
or don't want a domicile
a permanent address,
f: a postal code
that pins us on the globe
like an exotic insect
in the entomologist's showcase.
m: The place in which we live
is a perpetual falling
through the looking glass
into the life
of someone else.
76. Monologue
m: A golden thorn
inn the diadem of your face,
the damp fabric of the streets,
arrows of time,
the chaotic ticking
of your heels on the sidewalk,
the eyes, shaped like the crescent moon, of cats on the wire
(your fingers sleep into mine):
we are little candelabra tinkling in the dark
while the earthquake is raging on,
poisons distilled from fossils
(fogs, childhood:
the last voice
that spoke to me
before. now you,
oracle,
of many and never.
now, deep down,
everybody. now me, alive,
and dead).
The factory of hours erupts
miracles from the chimneys.
The blond resin
that rained on the embers
of the blaze
is deep down only
my life.
77. Dialogue
f: Of this dawn the dream,
at the mercy of inexhaustible swamps,
we have left unfinished.
m: Of not knowing who, what
lurks on the other side,
perhaps only a vast deserted
auditorium.
Of not yet being exempt
from the future.
f: And everything will be changed forever,
to be the same again as always.
m: The emptiness that slowly returns
to extinguish me,
to undo my being me.
78. Intermezzo
... everything melts and drains gushing into the past ... no sign is left of the moon in the sky; the breath of the clouds is water; and the returning wave is no longer itself ...
79. Dialogue
m: I advance slowly, hoping
of never reaching
my final destination,
the dead-end beach of your love,
the castle erected by your heart
in the quagmire of mine's tenuous ashes.
f : This is the only "forever" that I know.
: Time has friezes and arabesques
Burnished with futile lies.
80. Monologue
m: Without the dimension
of time. Time,
the essence of the rose,
became extinct in you. In time
we are alone.
We are the two pupils,
lit in the darkness,
of god; we are twin
rays, entangled in the shivers
of the pregnant foliage
of millennial oaks;
two flutters of wing from the nest
basted in the hourglass,
two chrysalises of buds
wrapped in snowflakes;
keys of the same keyboard.
81. Dialogue
m: My secret singing to you a musical staff of kisses. f: I heard beating in my heart the rhythm of your voice. m: The diamond that will remain to swim in the orchid lakes of your eyes. f: That evening you took my hand, and you’ve never let it go. m: Inside your eyes how my thoughts poured! on your lips, how crumbled the sand of my reason!
82. Intermezzo
The barbwire of lights surrounding the bay ties the waves and the reefs into a pact of secrecy, a torture of reflections and debris that the giant seaweed of clouds propels towards the ocean.
83. Dialogue
f: Isn't life perhaps that which happens behind our back unbeknownst to us while we attempt to move away? m: Or perhaps the moving away itself? : Even in the ending the beginning goes on.
84. Monologue
m: Life is of us
but what we are made of,
the thought of which we are flesh.
I throw my arms into the emptiness
of the spaces that I smother,
bird larger than the sky
in which I fly: bird of prey
and immortal, hero and toy.
85. Dialogue
: The last wave has enveloped the moon,
like a curtain. The angels, the puppets
of metal, the victims, the scarred
effigies, the masters of ceremony,
disappeared in the wings of the stage.
m: In the silence of reeds that we
have built, like a hut
on the island of shipwreck,
I have taken by the hand the last jingle
of your voice, the tenuous navel
that will keep me alive until tomorrow,
until birth, until redemption.
: Along labrador walls,
sweaty still with sparks of wind,
the mercury of night flows languidly,
carving the bruises of martyrdom
in the lurid flesh of the void.
m: The skeins of light that we watch pass by,
and vanish into the meanders of a day
that does not yet exist, the stunted steps
in which we search for traces of something
that can belong to us, serve no purpose
than to occupy the focus of the lens.
: Follow their route with your gaze:
they enter from one end of the world,
from the obscene and crumbling mouth
of the crystal idol, and come out
from another end, clouds,
dead leaves, fescues, everything
that lives in the wind, without memory,
and in memory. That is the secret
that you two have come to unveil,
in this city of sugar,
where the ivory of the terraces
and its shaded halo draw
into a high and circular flight,
continuous as the orbit of the planets,
those nameless birds
that from the ocean have come
looking for crumbs and blades of grass.
86. Dialogue
m: And we are not, in that, different from them;
except that we stand motionless, contemplating
the last pangs of the rubble,
from the corner where we have found shelter,
rather than flying over them in reconnaissance.
Their ambiguity is our own.
: Predators of dreams. Hooked beak
and gathered wings, ready to snap.
m: Not by chance, when I look at you,
you smile at me, from the curl of your lip
which afterward seems to crumple,
over time, into a grimace of pain.
: But this, in the circle already closed, is,
believe me, another victory.
The trembling and slender signal
beyond the bolted door.
Let us not hush even our lives.
87. Dialogue
m: A sharp wind of moon
climbs on our faces
an emptiness of drifting stars
that crackles and winces
on the tinfoil of dawn.
f: It seals our two shadows,
locked in the crystal ball,
in the sympathetic ink of the code
that we must decipher together,
in the ancient call that leaves us;
in the ash of Nativity
of the immense forms of the shoreline,
riddled by the silence of the mist:
the drunken coachman, the virgin
dragonfly, the fisherman of pearls.
m: The will-o'-the-wisps of the eclipse
observe us and judge us
from their gloom of vertigoes.
f: In the abstract game
of the firmaments, between god and god,
through the bloody ether
like a deflowered hymen,
in two sparks of our reflections,
blind reverberations of an intercourse,
I glimpse the absolute,
and, at the bottom of all that darkness,
in the blazing cliffs,
struggling at the anchor
the meaning.
88. Intermezzo
The ash sparrow
crumbling in a corner of the nest,
the woodworm beating
in bones of grave,
the worms wandering
inside the sleeveless coat
wavering in the wind
meek, drunk
(and the bat's beak
pinned to the top
to its black skeleton?):
ragged death
that protects the field
from the ravenous crows
of sweaty seeds.
89. Dialogue
m: I picked, today,
a flower identical to you,
: a dawn of petals
nestled in the corolla,
a shy shimmer
of pollen of suns,
a vertigo of colors
that melted in the wind,
m: a scent from long ago
that I can't remember
and that I can never forget.
m: I chase
in this burrow of time
what will be left of you:
: A swarm of tiny diamonds,
a waft of dazzling thunderbolts,
a breath of celestial bubbles,
m: a refrain of waves
stored in the treasure chest
of one of your smiles
: in a space of mirrors,
of emptiness of shell,
of dreams to dream
m: in the swamp
of this life
that doesn't know
beauty
: that does not grant
futures.
90. Dialogue
f: so far away
and yet so close
m: I have breathed the dunes
of your hair,
the sunshine of your eyes,
and the sea of your cheeks,
I have seen something of you
in every flake of the sky,
I have heard your voice
in every step of the stars.
f: mirrors of an identical secret
m: And everything has changed forever
to be equal again to always.
91. Monologue
f: Oh crumb of universe mirroring yourself in the annihilated blue of my eyes, each splinter that you try to save could finish you.
92. Dialogue
m: You gave me
a second of eternity
that now floods my chest,
bleeds out my brain,
overflows light and darkness
in the imminent oblivion
under shut eyelids.
f: Worn-out amulet.
Silenced exorcism.
Unrecognizable seal.
Mockery.
Me.
93. Intermezzo
Truth is a sobbing without tears, a moan without sound, a whole of nothing and nobody.
94. Dialogue
f: As we climb blindfolded
towards the summit of the sun,
we are gripped by terror of the void:
we recite in an obscene choir
the names that emerged from sleep
and that faded away in the dim
swarming of the headlights.
m: From the sunken city I hear
the rattle cracking her lips
drenched with stars:
"tomorrow, tomorrow:
let us not surrender like this!
what have we got to lose?"
Of this distances
we only know the ending.
f: The parchment of my days
crumples crackling,
but when touching the fire it reveals
written with sympathetic ink
the sings of another life.
m: I read
in the hieroglyphs of the sky,
that soar in clusters
and burn inside waters
like pearls of a broken necklace,
the prophecy that will plunge us
from a sunset of absences
to a dawn of presences.
f: These lives judge
the quality, not the quantity,
of the world.
95. Dialogue
m: They are coming to the midnight
appointment, the ghosts of your past,
the anonymous faces that inhabit
secret recesses of your mind,
the zigzags of thought
to which I abandon the drift
of our silences, the ambushes
that entangle
the agitated current
of your sleep.
f: These tears
that will never stop
streaking my cheeks,
this scream
that will never stop
tearing apart my temples.
m: I listen in solitude
the dead wind, odorless,
that batters me in waves
and that I breath feeble
and the echo that I decipher,
choked with tears,
in that memory lapse.
f: These signs of love,
red-hot stigmata
that will make of my every breathe
an excruciating torture.
m: I will only pass to Death
the baton that I equally
carry with me, inside me.
96. Intermezzo
From the quiver he draws a fire arrow, stretches his bow and glitters like a skull his bright hook on the leaden wall. A bandana of clouds on the moon's eye, fierce pirate.
97. Monologue
m : One thing we have understood in the tears that we have dried on each other with kisses of cotton candy on cheeks red with joy and shame: that more important is the cry that we have not yet cried!
98. Monologue
f : There is no page in me that has not already been written by you.
99. Monologue
m: Each of these tears is another bit of you that enters into me.
100. Monologue
: You girl fell asleep inside a word.
101. Intermezzo
We, perhaps only human, still seek it that eternal thrill, the throb in the universal silence.
102. Monologue
m: (Eternity is transparent: on the other side I see neither memory nor time). f: There are no other places that we can head to. m: (I shiver, alone, at the void)
103. Monologue
m: You are this poem, and you are about to end.
104. Dialogue
f: And your gaze which guided me to meet the sun like a flight of seagulls, now I lose it, apparently forever, in a wind of light, violent and blinding. not lighthouse but mirror; in a point inside you that I can’t see, but I sense, a black hole in which I plunge without even having the strength to see it reflected or magnified, but only capsized and faded; as if I lived inside binoculars, between one lens and the other, between two identical tears. m: From you I did not have even the time of a smile; yet it was enough to understand how far I still have to walk, how far is what I am looking for, and how hidden from all the rest; how alive I am. f: And finally you will take me by the hand, along the faintest of sunrays, because this was perhaps our destiny, to walk where nobody else would even see the path.
105. Monologue
: