By FERNANDO RIOS*
New poems
With our kaleidoscopic hourglass
no pointers whereabouts
how to think saw/see suffer smile
so many unknown moments worlds?
for Danilo Santos de Miranda
for me to enter the world
I need to come inside myself first
the house the body the life
the enigma the ephemeral
being or having time
who can exist whole
otherwise affectionately shared
multiplied in someone?
property
a marries the body the life
you have to enter the body
how to enter the house
how to penetrate life
I have skin muscles organs
blood nails hair bones
and naturally vegetable animal
I go inside from head to toe
my home body life
It has a living room door and window
kitchen bedroom bathroom
waiting for penetrations
sometimes I get caught
on the outside
of the house or the body?
happy sad fates in allegories
what euphoria in everyday life
what horrors, heartbreaks, desolations
melancholy depressions misanthropies
Do my fortunes parade before me?
my body my home
my home my body
where is my life
Where are my philanthropies?
I come in and out of myself
How do I get in and out of my house?
life waits for me, stalks me
report me
shouting calls me
why give up?
only lovingly implodes with the other
or at least in pilgrimage
how many doors and windows
close and open every second
in my body home life?
my animal body found a cave
and now who governs
is my body liquid mineral physical chemical
how many shadows my cave absorbs
How many times do I come and go?
drowned in tears
drunk on wine?
What to say to dark beings?
how many voices shouting north south
drive the wind rose crazy
destroy the astrolabe
and send me adrift?
house ship or cocoon?
you have to get in and out
no house is cozy
if there is no heat
if there is no odor
that turns into memory
that records joy
above any pain
even in the body that pauses
the house walks tenuously
because there is a body
because body without home
wanders
Are there also those without homes and their bodies?
what bodies are these?
how do they wander aimlessly?
they are children young adults old
times of all ages
adulterated by misery by hunger
by loneliness by alcohol by drugs
for our blindness
for our hypocrisy
by our not looking
because our anesthetic doesn't feel
Do those without homes have no body?
Are they invisible to sensitive eyes?
are not reached by the hands?
by our emotion?
Are they worth less than a pet?
travel the streets without destination?
make our folly come true?
bodies and houses are needed
they mean they add themselves
feed
bodies without homes
erupt
magical touches are humanized into solidarity
house and body are built in details
fingers bring the light wherever it comes from
and light the house
fingers touch bodies and light up
light up skins, light up souls
who wander around Einsteinian
without any formula
through space time
what makes a body
someone's house
body and home
properties and owners
know who
and each one with his own
the house is a womb
how the uterus is a house
how the sea is a womb/house
how a womb/house is a house/womb
that invites us to live
that drives us to live
that convinces us to live
live what life, with whom?
In that lonely human solidarity age?
how many wars will it take
so that wombs bodies house lives
can you embrace each other warmly/minds?
Life
between sky and sea
fly
and hold the sunset with your hands
and dive into the deep air
and build in serious time calm
and deconstruct a time of intrusive fury
and serenely confuse the hands of the hourglass
and without tiredness
fall asleep in the arms of tomorrow
and wake up in the open every second
(with a body next to it?)
like someone just born
and then herd the pack of pain and hate
(which always surrounds the loving herd)
to greet a pleasant day to day
in serene symphony
that paves the way
and gently cradles the steps
and then
between sky earth sea
between fire water air
walk sing in a blue green
bathe in the sun affection
live inside and outside
with the calluses of the soul
and the jets of glory
because only then does time have no time
enigma
we must drink gall and mead
to decipher the clouds
you have to experience heartburn and ambrosia
to decipher the wind
we have to live love and horror
to decipher passion
and between body and punch
and between soul and weapon
Why take the air out of someone else?
Why extort someone else's flame?
if it doesn't happen side by side
always vivid
without body and body glued together
no life is sown
ephemeral
nothing is more eternal than an ephemeral
neither aion nor kairos nor cronos
to be a truly righteous ephemeral explosive
it is possible to delve deeply into an ephemeral
it is possible to listen forever to an ephemeral
it is possible to infinitely embrace an ephemeral
a good ephemeral takes care of us
covers and warms body and soul
a good ephemeral feeds intoxication
ephemera happen day or night
often land on volatile surfaces
and wait patiently for the future
when you find an ephemeral
a large and beautiful ephemeral worthy of the name
duly tattooed on body and soul
Don't abandon him because he tends to be a fugitive and aloof.
All you need is a precise ground of affection
and a comprehensive and luminous dream smile
try holding an ephemeral by the hand
like someone holding a blind man's hand
like someone who warms and strengthens a child
ephemera are everywhere
only living intensely can mean them
and turn them into infinities forever
be have time
everything is very little
it's never forever
little is a lot
always is never
live never never little
live everything forever
and if you have to unlive
let it be intensely
but you have to leave it tattooed in life
a body that was built with luck, ingenuity, art
a body that dribbled death
planting your eternity in fertile ground
*Fernando Rios is a journalist, poet and artist.
the earth is round there is thanks to our readers and supporters.
Help us keep this idea going.
CONTRIBUTE
