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like nothing at all

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There’s a light inside my room That never shines or fades away A glass half-full of absence A chair that learned to stay Watching days go drifting by Without asking what they mean I’m not waiting for an answer Or a sign against the glass If God ever left a footprint Morning covered up the tracks And deep down in everything There’s no secret underneath I walk because I’m walking Not to get somewhere someday I laugh because the darkness Knows how to keep me safe And if the world forgets my name I won’t curse it when it goes I’m only just a shadow Talking softly to the cold Everything is heavy But somehow it can float Everything is burning But it never turns to smoke Hope is just a jacket That doesn’t fit me anymore I take it off slowly Fold it on the floor And I stand before the air Like nothing at all Like nothing at all Like nothing at all A flower in the desert Doesn’t ask what it is for It opens up its body To a sky of static noise Maybe that is living A useless, beautiful move Again...
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Let it be blue

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There is a country made of almost Where no one ever arrives The sea folds up its silver animals And hides them in the sky You stand there in a weather of roses I stand where the mirrors end Between us the blue door trembles But never learns to bend What never can happen Will not happen Though the heart invents a shore What never can happen Will not happen And still we ask for more O love, impossible orchard O bird that sings inside the snow We name the light that cannot reach us And call it ours before we go The moon prepares its empty banquet The plates are bright with rain A chair is waiting for your shadow A chair is waiting in vain The wind wears your invisible body The trees repeat your name But sound is only sound, beloved And flame is only flame What never can happen Will not happen Though desire builds a door What never can happen Will not happen The sea returns no shore O love, impossible orchard O hand beyond the glass We are the music of a moment That was not allowed to pass...
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3 drops fell

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I I do not know which to praise, The rain upon the roof Or the roof becoming rain, The window listening Or what it hears after. II Three drops fell On the iron railing. They were not three drops But the beginning Of a province. III The rain moved over the town Like a thought Without a thinker. A woman closed her umbrella And entered the weather. IV A child watched the gutters Carry leaves away. He believed the leaves Were little boats, And perhaps they were. V O pale men of the avenue, Why do you wait for thunder? Do you not see how the rain Has already entered The shoes of everyone? VI The long glass shivered With liquid alphabets. The shadow of the rain Crossed it, to and fro. The room Found in that crossing An indecipherable mercy. VII I know the noble silence Of dry stone, And the lucid patience Of dust. But I know, too, That the rain is involved In what I know.
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morning

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The day falls behind barely burned already useless Then comes the great light every door gives way before a man asleep Time is a tree that never stops growing Time the vast half-open gate the star that blinds It is not with the eyes that one sees the birth of that drop of light that will be that once was day Sing, bee without hurry cross the shining labyrinth in celebration Breathe and sing Where everything ends the wings begin You are the sun the sting of morning the sea kissing the mountains the total clarity the dream At half voice the world remembers how to open At half voice the dawn enters like a secret animal And the sleeping man unlocks the doors without moving The light grows the tree grows the silence grows Sing, bee in the golden wound of the hour Nothing is lost only transformed into brightness Nothing is gone only sleeping inside the fire You are the sun the first wound of the day the blue mouth of the ocean the mountain breathing salt the clarity the dream At half voice a...
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about you

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I saw a cathedral Growing out of a spoon A choir of blue horses Was howling at the moon The mouths were all melting The mirrors forgot what to do And every strange reflection Turned into nobody else but you I walked through a hallway Made of radio snow Where the angels were dancing With shadows they didn’t know A fish in a top hat Said love is never true But then he changed his answer To nobody else but you Nobody else but you In the thunder of the roses In the static of the sea In the doors that never open In the dream that dreams of me Nobody else but you When the stars come loose like buttons From the velvet sky so blue Every impossible road Leads to nobody else but you I found your name written On the back of the sun By a blind ballerina With a golden water gun She said time is a window And the window’s looking through All the lives I never lived And they’re all in love with you The city was sleeping In a bottle full of rain The saints played electric guitars On a runaway train And...
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ruinoso cariñoso

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Hay una luz en la pieza que no alumbra ni se apaga, un vaso sheno de ausencia, una sisha acostumbrada a mirar pasar los días sin pedirles explicación. Yo no espero una respuesta, ni una señal en la ventana; si Dios dejó alguna huesha, se la llevó la madrugada. Y en el fondo de las cosas no hay secreto ni traición. Camino porque camino, no por llegar a ninguna parte. Me río porque el abismo también sabe acompañarme. Y si el mundo no me nombra, yo tampoco lo maldigo: soy apenas una sombra conversando con el frío. Todo pesa, pero flota; todo arde, pero no shama. La esperanza es una ropa que ya no me queda nada. Me la saco lentamente, la doblo sobre la cama, y me quedo frente al aire como la nada misma, como la nada misma, como la nada misma. Una flor en el desierto no pregunta por sentido; abre igual su breve cuerpo contra el cielo interferido. Tal vez eso sea la vida: un gesto inútil y hermoso contra el polvo repetido. No me salven de este hueco, no me expliquen la mañana. Ya aprendí que...
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void alpha

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I took you past the southern gate where the roads forget their names, through districts of reflected dust and windows without flames. You said the night had been arranged by someone kind and blind; I said the stars were not above but something left behind. I denied it for a while, the geometry of loss, the quiet proof that every door is also still a cross. Some loves are drawn before we live, some maps are made of rain; I walked the same deserted street and never walked again. There once was a man who dreamed a planet and woke inside the dream; he kept a coin, a broken watch, a book no one had seen. Please don’t call him fallen, he never climbed that high; he only found a mirror and mistook it for the sky. Finally found a sentence, finally lost the page, finally met his double at the far end of his age. Mostly found a doorway standing open now. And I denied it for a while, the arithmetic of pain, that one can leave a universe and find it there again. Some wounds are not remembered; som...
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