sábado, 31 de enero de 2015

82. No busco fama

No digas nada, me repito mientras veo
que todo cierra en el relato de la tarde
si muere a solas desprovista del alarde
que oculto y guardo convirtiéndola en trofeo.

No busco fama sino gloria, o eso creo
si salgo al paso del valiente y del cobarde
centrando el ojo en el sendero que me arde
su forma curva de vacío y de deseo.

Me pueblo entonces de distancias absolutas
andando inmóvil por los bordes de mi mente
sellando angustias y alegrías sin pasado,

volviendo a mí con la potencia de volutas
de un sol curtido y sosegado, iridiscente

de penas rotas al calor de un yo triunfado.

Journal 5

Journal 5


There was finally no need to know, is there an imposition about it then? Two bottles of anything and letting yourself be swept away by the road, or two months of courtship with any whore from the Uruguayan Square[1], whatever, although sometimes the illusion of something different can make you believe something might be different. “It is in the genes”, the same as “It is in your blood”, a word for people, a Book for people. A translation of what is unspeakable. Decadence.

However, for something to fall it must raise up first, or it must be already lifted up to begin with. Where was the world before falling to where it is today? Nowhere, it became something out of nothing, and it will go back to nothing. In the meantime, Darius, Xerxes and Artaxerxes, or Alexander, Babylon, Rome, the United States, the European Union, MERCOSUR (Southern Common Market, a free trade area of South America), shit on shit. And it will be said in the most ceremonial tone that “there was a time when hunger, disease, poverty, devastated …” etc. As if it were far away in history of time and space. At the time of acknowledging his achievements I always go first, but I still bear in mind the stupidity of the one who believes that people will never understand him, whereas it is the other way around.

Theoretically, that race that beats down the streets could never understand the Arcanes, according to whoever “pulls an all-nighter”. But they will come to the same conclusion, sad for some, fun for others, as if a conclusion could be emotional, as if there were any feelings in Truth. Who are the ones who cannot see then? Finally, all of them will defecate, and all of them will end up being catabolized.

Dear putrefiable brethren, where does laughter come from? No. Playing with opposites would be too simple. What is the antonym of salty? What is the antonym of bitter? It does not have to do with laughter in opposition to crying. It is laughter in opposition to desire. In which of the variables called crying, desire, laughter, is where consciousness dwells? If killing desire were the imposition, would it not have a sound argument? And if crying where the imposition, would it lack foundation? And that last laughter that turned your mouth into its dwelling place, on what pillars does it stand?

Where does it come from? Where does it go to? It is in the genes, blood is thicker than water, life is laughter, it is part of an origin and a purpose abstention, at least for an instant, and free of added value tax. What day is today? Do we need a full stop to restart with a new idea in a new paragraph and relate night not with day nor with cold but with heat escape? It is an analogy of a phone call that turns into an image, a technically intellectual burst through which matter manages to represent matter through matter. Brutal!

I was there when the difference between price and value was invented, it was daytime. It was nighttime when it did not matter anymore.

The outcome, means and ends, on the tip of the fingers, of my fingers, or of the one who sales strawberries at sunset in some busy corner, and who well-manneredly says “mister”. Rising to the height of a thing, a person, an animal, matter, something nice. A message to the seven churches: are you nice? Seven is a prime number. Ergo, Pareto and his henchmen.

Grab the mayonnaise and take a look at the expiration date: August 31, 2001 – at seven in the evening. I said “grab” and not “take the mayonnaise”, what do you think? Do you think I am not aware of what I am writing? Your own insufficiency makes you read me, mine makes me write.

Someone would sleep softly and would not disappear
and a whole life may be heard in silence
and things may be sensed in the reality of sounds
just as the intention to reach the breath of what is left. 

Someone may be everybody and someone at the same time
and may eternally deny himself in his written screams
and someone may eat his bowels while keeping company
resisting the urge to stop feeling like being no more.

Having been produced, the instruments await
the interpreters run, having been created
someone may understand it, and instead of burying it
will produce something that can be sold, that will have a price for a value.

Soh.



[1] In the 80’s, the Uruguayan square in Asuncion was well known for the prostitutes that offered their services in its surroundings. 

viernes, 30 de enero de 2015

Agarro la noche

agarro la noche
sin tener garras y cagándome
en las enseñanzas de mi profe de "castellano"

como si lo castizo fuese español
y un título de docente habiliten
a hablarle a quien no quiere escuchar
sino perfecciones

con la puta esta
jodiéndome con paciencia el pecho
medito de golpe y sin aviso
cómo sostenerla en una página
extendiendo su larga espalda tórrida
sobre mi teclado curtido de premoniciones

no creas
me busco y al buscarme te defino
desde un cubo que me sabe
el latido y la llaga de ir legando
una manera que enaltece
lo que todos somos si no nos miran
eso que queremos escupir y que
por las formas ajenas no nos permitimos
a menos que el músculo sea una atrofia
y lo sentimientos de drama sean comunes

NO TE FÍES
del repaso que hago de mis rimas
del metro que utilizo
si el vacío me escupe una vagina indócil
mientras vomito sobre la idea de la suerte
levantando catedrales solas
sobre la aridez de mi vientre cansado
de no tener competidor en el torneo de los solos

y mejor me juzgas
sin considerar el calendario y las horas que aprietan
cuando todo viene en contra y en tu camisa sólo habita
el anciano recuerdo de una abuela
apostando a una firmeza sin límites
con la pureza del asco hacia los demás
haciendo de la distancia un escudo

que yo no vine para irme

sino para volver

42. Burla 1

Casi son lo esencial para una fiesta
en donde se trasciende de lo simple
razonando el origen de los fines
vividos tras cruzar algunas puertas.

Enlazadas podrían causar guerras
zahiriendo la mente y lo tangible
al tiempo que desplazan a lo triste
y mutan a lo nuevo en cosa vieja.

Habitan desde siempre y con permiso
entre la gente falta de pudor,
marcando la distancia con que nutren

barcazas solitarias de destino,
rabiando del acróstico el rencor

asido a la garganta de las luces.