Double Poem of Lake Eden

It was my ancient voice

unaware of dense bitter juices

Licking my feet

under the drenched and fragile ferns

Ay, ancient voice of my love

ay, voice of my truth,

ay, voice of my open side

when only roses flowered from my tongue

and the grass did not recognize the impassive teeth of the horse!

You are here drinking my blood,

drinking my tiresome-child's temper,

while my eyes break in the wind

against aluminum and the voices of drunks.

Let me pass through the door

where Eve eats ants

and Adam impregnates bedazzled fishes

Let me pass, little man with horns,

through the woods of stretchings,

and joyful leaps.

I know the most secret use

that an old rusty pin possesses

and I know the horror of wide-open eyes

on the tangible surface of the plate.

But I desire neither world, nor dream, divine voice,

I desire my freedom, my human love,

in the most hidden corner of the breeze no one desires.

My human love!

Those sea-dogs chase each other

and the wind lies in wait for unsuspecting trunks.

Oh, ancient voice, burn with your tongue

this voice of tin-plate and talcum powder!

I want to cry because I want to

like children on the last bench cry,

because I am not a man, nor a poet, nor a sheet of paper,

but, yes, a wounded pulse sounding out those things on the other side.

I want to cry, calling my name,

rose, boy, fir-tree at the lake's beach,

speaking my truth, a full-blooded man

killing in myself the mockery, the hint of the word.

No, no, I do not request, I desire,

my liberated voice, that you should lick my hands.

In the labyrinth of screens, my nakedness receives

a mirror of punishment, a clock set on fire.

So I spoke.

So I spoke when Saturn stopped the trains

and fog and dream and death sought me

They sought me

there, where lowing cows with delicate feet

where my body drifts among opposing equilibriums.

Copyright World Poetry, Incorporated Mar/Apr 2005
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