Dialogue of the LoversISBN: 9798860841352
Poems by piero scaruffi | Original Italian version | Purchase the book
TM, ®, Copyright © 1998-2023 Piero Scaruffi All rights reserved.
Poem in three parts:
- Alef: 35 Cantos
- Apeiron: 35 Cantos
- Nil: 35 Cantos
- '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
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)
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)
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. Monologuef: 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. Monologuem: 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. IntermezzoA sharp wind, skein of hisses, sol-fas and twirls between dust and dust as between anvil and hammer.
5. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoWe 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. Dialoguef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoGenital 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. Dialoguef: 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. IntermezzoIt 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. Dialoguef: 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. Dialoguef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoTo 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. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoThe 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoThe current unravels the inert shadows of the wreckage: still shining on that ocean floor something of all of yesterday.
32. Monologuef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Monologuem: 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. Monologuef: 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. IntermezzoA 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. Dialoguef: 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. IntermezzoThe 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. Dialoguef: 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. Monologuef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Monologuem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoWe 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. IntermezzoIf only we knew where this route leads, and why. If only we didn't know where we come from, and why...
53. Dialoguef: 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. Monologuef: 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. Monologuef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoWhy 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. Dialoguem: 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. Monologuem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Monologuef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguef: 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. Monologuef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Monologuem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguem : 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. Dialoguem: 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. Monologuem : Have I already become something that has been and will never be again, ever again?
74. IntermezzoThey 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. Dialoguef: 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. Monologuem: 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. Dialoguef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Monologuem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoThe 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. Dialoguef: 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. Monologuem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoThe 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. Dialoguem: 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. Dialoguef: 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. Monologuef: Oh crumb of universe mirroring yourself in the annihilated blue of my eyes, each splinter that you try to save could finish you.
92. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoTruth is a sobbing without tears, a moan without sound, a whole of nothing and nobody.
94. Dialoguef: 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. Dialoguem: 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. IntermezzoFrom 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. Monologuem : 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. Monologuef : There is no page in me that has not already been written by you.
99. Monologuem: Each of these tears is another bit of you that enters into me.
100. Monologue: You girl fell asleep inside a word.
101. IntermezzoWe, perhaps only human, still seek it that eternal thrill, the throb in the universal silence.
102. Monologuem: (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. Monologuem: You are this poem, and you are about to end.
104. Dialoguef: 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.
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