wandering

I had a dream last night,
swallowing, through sealed eyelids,
the blue, harsh darkness between half past one
and three.
it seems I was somewhere
I’ve never been before:
a whale’s mouth-
so familiar and yet, so strange to me.

I saw Lisbon’s streets and markets once again-
shining like jewels, as white as the flesh,
sparkling like flying fish.
I saw someone, wandering
-no shadow, only a white, pearly immensity,
palm trees and breeze and snails and fado-
I felt I had to scream, but couldn’t-
didn’t want, I guess, to brake the mercury surface,
the silvery shade trembling on things
so I sat there, breathlessly-
-„so tell me now,are you ready to die?”-
touching the orb one more time,
caressing,
feeling the intense velvet of the sky on my skin,
pulsating.

and the blue, beautiful veins of the city
entered my veins
and the pale flesh of its streets
penetrated my flesh.

and I woke up.
as I said, it was three o’clock in the morning:
no flags, no trumptes, no glory.
only the true, naked, warm,
clean immensity of things,
my hands, rubbing my eyes
the great silver owl
-and a wanderer.

prayer

the sumptuous transparency of light
unlocks itself from the delicate womb.

-incredulous, tiny fragments descending-
and the inclined,open, bleeding sky
and a handful of curious creatures
and a pair of hairy ears
and a bean
-and a handful of silence.

the prayer
eats its own shiny ends
the neverending chanting
the white purple
warm calves and ashes
tambourines
opulenent and silky noise
shhhhhhh
shhhhhhhhh
and the golden toes of the air-born thing
that never got a name
or a shadow.

surrender

slippery silence
-the words are caving in-
wet creatures
shifting, shivering
tiny mercury wings
whispery halos
and a smoke pendulum-
the hour of the wolf
sharping its beautiful teeth.

approaching glow
barefooted, vicious
alongated shapes
dancing underneath the skin
poisonous, haunting surrender
-the deep end of the emerald.

the noise around your sound
falls into oblivion.
there is a frozen sky above us
-and a beautiful one.

freak

black poppies crawling their claws under your skin-
bewitching your senses into intoxicating desire.

the great silver owl
burning frankincense and myrrh.
beautiful white bones
exposed, translucent and pale
under the gilded opulence of moonlight.

insane deadly nightshade
dripping, hot and smoothly
oiling the inside walls of the veins
unashamedly caressing and biting,
blossoming unnamed creatures.

thick, liquid light
giving birth to shy silver snails
under datura’s shivering petals-
the night’s sharp blade cuting deep into the blood.

(the freak comes out from the hiding
wearing a glass lace mask,
barefooted and howling-
and the great owl closes its eyes.)

counting white tigers

enclosed ina glass prison
like a marble whale
toothless and blind and pure
four pairs of wings and three pairs of claws
smooth and soft as lilies
whispering orb
glowing merciless like a mercury nightmare.

the night’s mouth’s wide open
waiting to swallow you, dark clown
and luminous lizard.

you glide along shallow paths,
blue glass scales in your hair
and on your naked shoulders.

meaningless penitence,
wordless, shapeless truth,
wandering poison, bliss and lust,
unveil yourself. appear.