The Hallucinatory Curtain
The Hallucinatory Curtain
nights grow in my palm like phosphor fish alive that burn me with blue lights,
they drink my slow retina like wine, they sing in my blood the chorus of dreams in frights;
a lamp makes winter in the warm attic of my mouth where ice grows crystal flowers,
and futility laughs insane: a clown in the skin of hatred dancing through carnival hours.
beneath my skin flows liquid gold from dismountable minds like clockwork mechanisms,
I dream I carry a floating door to intrable worlds where no prophet's feet have risen;
from behind my pupil a lift of stars ascends through corridors of light,
up to the ultimate space where heaven melts in azure water and resin bright.
on infinite spiral returns spins the OuCULT, peaceful in perpetual dreaming,
and writes the hidden alphabet through my cooled ash in vessels of old clay gleaming;
a glass snail slowly blows litanies in its shell like in a small cathedral,
and my tongue becomes arcade and cell where echo seeks its own burial.
a violin snake bites from silence as from a soft velvet fruit,
writing with sound's corner on both my lungs breath partitions on vocal cords' route;
an angel without shoulders puts on a head of salt white as sand from the shore,
so it won't hear anymore how time discharges in hourglasses and on marble floor.
the clown emperor signals me from bones like from an old ivory tower,
his crown is green – thick bureaucratic leaves like files from ancient walls of power;
in the hospital of sick ideas, wards with echoes that repeat diagnosis,
they steal dementia's uncertain walk and give it behind flowers in therapeutic hypnosis.
"moral normal" flows like milk from shards broken on marble floor,
on twisted corridors beat clocks without screws measuring time without measure or core;
and all the literates sing with tongues of ice melted in stove mouths,
their heads stand guard at the starving belly that begs for bread and pastries from the south.
graduates of FATE raise diplomas in the air like flags of bitter victory,
on the paper's back cries a comet like a silver hair crossing evening's mystery;
the handkerchief of weeping wipes mascara from stars like a gentle celestial hand,
and eroded foreheads have marine maps in them with archipelagos eternally planned.
from morning's palette fall polychrome birds like melted rainbow petals,
I catch names on them like butterflies, forget them and from names grow new metals;
ephemeral poet, I write water with my nail falling on waves that break in foam,
and the sky holds my rib, a hook of silence that suspends me in penumbra's dome.
I live like burning wheat in the blind wind of salt that beats from the desert without borders,
waves over swirls drag the land to sea in the long rhythm of the great silver orders;
I read to life with voice of thunder that returns like an echo through granite mountains,
its sonorous stupidity escapes me and bakes me in its kiln of fired clay and fountains.
from its vault the night pours diamonds on temples like a rain of minuscule comets,
and lips – the spells – ignite desires in simple breath of core that floats amongets
of thousands and thousands of beings that share the same air charged with pollen and sighs,
we all breathe from the same atmosphere that binds souls through invisible fine ties.
the pun doctor doses DEATH's jokes like absurd pills in jars,
puts them on my retina like doses of world in drops of color beneath the stars;
in twilight wards stand living patients with veins in oriented compasses,
with biological compass – SOUTH-NORTH – toward other magnetic fields that passes.
I swear on warm wax signs, melted seals, wounds of red wax sealed,
to the calendar its dates fall – petals in autumn – on time's pages as yellowed leaves yield;
on fertile pages grow sentences like green grass after long spring rains,
and the repeated shore puts in waves its white foam beard that grows in coastal plains.
SURROUNDED from all sides by buds that emerge from time's bark germinating,
spring breaks my shoulders in a shout of green joy that intoxicates and resonating;
from my chest leap roads, meridians, auroras that paint the boreal sky,
and I tie SOUTH with NORTH on long threads of sun to weave in cosmos a ritual high.
what will emerge – MAN will see – with eyes wide open toward the endless firmament,
when my beloved through clouds dances like a snowflake in air whirl's imprisonment;
through the Morning Star descends a sign of full moon like a silver coin in air,
the moon becomes a ball, a sphere of light that plays with gravity in ether's lair.
from thinned rays I braid you a crown like from a golden spider's web,
and golden curtains over hermitages ring in bells of melted light that ebb;
from threads of light is drawn our tent woven from filtered sun rays,
SERENE, after the storm, like in calm water where heavens reflect in all ways.
from beyond HEAVEN – its silk is stillness – descends in gaze like a transparent veil,
a silence greater than quiet, vaster than space in fundamental essence without fail;
and in it, with the perfect indifference of light that falls like a caress on skin,
I write you my living hallucination: a map of love drawn in destiny within!
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