L'Amour en tant qu'Etre-limite

Mon coeur est sur un promontoire

Son silence embrasse un vertige

Notre amour s'appelle art du vol et de la chute

Etre-limite: changement de corps

Embarquer ou mourir sur les quais

Love as Mendicancy

My hands unfold and their emptiness is always a stormy ocean of whisperings.
Sometimes there are also night screams vocipherating secrets.
Je t'aime, je t'aimerai. This navigation goes beyond the season of roses and sunshine.
I recall your mouth reposing on my hands as the embodied idea of infinity within us.

Our danse belongs to our emergency. It begins on the walls, develops on the floors and aims the ceilings of a future song.
I have begged you to burn my body and to spread its ashes on the flowing essence of your Angst.
Our bodies dried, thirsty, looking for moons and rivers among the metaphors of our skin.

My hands unfold and their emptiness is always an inner spring of tears.
Can we drink it and survive?
Love transcends all lovers and demands self-transcendence.

A reason for living is a reason for dying.

Big Bang

L'amour ne frappe pas à nos portes
il explose nos demeures de ce monde

Apocalypse: une fois pour toutes

Nos corps deviennent des chemins
Et tout voyage

L'amour comme guitare

Tu t'apprendras
un jour une nuit
les tensions des guitares.

Tu t'as promis un jour une nuit
de t'apprendre sur les montagnes

Je te vois Promesse
revenir des secrets
des volcans ou des lacs
nue comme Eve

Et Dieu perdu
entre la faim des fruits
et le jardin des nuages
te priera pour l'Avenir
la Profondeur d'Etre Femme

J'attendrai tes doigts
et la transformation finale
de mon corps en cordes

Le personnage inenarrable de l'Amant de Sophia

Rien qu'une tente au milieu des montagnes entre l'hiver et le printemps.
Rien qu'une terre promise inscrite dans tous les muscles.
Il fait noir. Confusion. Une sorte de pluie sur le visage. Un glissement interne.
Une chute, ou presque: Je t'aime, je t'aimerai: mon amour, c'est mon temps.
La narration gesticule doucement en silence. Cela fait trembler quelque chose, disons le monde.
Ce sont des caresses en l'air: le tissu d'une histoire.
La parole avance et reflue, obscure, juste une voyelle, qui se prolonge en chant. Une exclamation en chair et en os. Temps des roses. Il sera toujours le temps des roses quelque part. M'aimes-tu encore? La bouche s'emplit de sable chaud. Serait-ce possible? Mangeons des roses et des livres. Oublions le reste.
Les mains plongent dans les mains. Que cherchent-elles toutes vides? Outre le toucher, rien. Comme si. Donner naissance ou presque. Vouloir une danse natale. Pour toujours. Sur les toits de l'amour.
Comme si l'heure de la fin ou de l'origine sonnait, je chanterai les voyelles de ton Nom. Cantiques des cantiques.
J'aime Sophia et je pleure pour l'impossible: elle me fait souffrir au milieu des textes. Elle me nourrit d'abandon. Je lui donne mon sang vierge, je lui ouvre mes veines et elle me rend la blancheur des pages futures. Je cherche refuge dans les marges des textes, soleil brutal.
Je cherche un corps, un port, une demeure. Tremblement de terre dans ma philosophie. Les textes me traversent, je fixe les marges blanches, mes yeux explosent. Il est Printemps dans les entrelignes. Le verbe aimer m'efface la peau.
Je m'expliquerai davantage plus tard, Sophia,
la nuit, le matin,
toujours par des gestes.

Love as Embodiment

Is there any Name bleeding slowly inside your body?
It must be the Sign of the rarest Privilege.

The inability of being invisibly wounded by an absence is Disembodiment:
nothingness. I wish you daily and nightly sufferings. I wish you the deepest thirst and hunger. For my sole desire is your fullest being.

Love as Theology

Lumen amoris umbra Dei.

No other religion than Love,
No other God than the Principle of Love,
No other Life in me than the Efficacy of Love.

Silence, music and dance will be thus all Theology.
Or nothing.

Love as Being

Primeiro encontro-te, depois procuro-me.
Encontro-me no meio de procurar-me-te.
Procuro-te no meio de encontrar-me-te.

Os labirintos dos verbos,
os labirintos dos pronomes,
os labirintos dos olhos, da boca, do corpo todo,
desaguam aqui neste manuscrito lavrado a contra-corrente,
meu sangue quente,
Ser
Ser-te
Ser-me
Ser-te-me.

Primeiro bebo-te, depois sinto-me
como sede e deserto.

Infinity and Zero, Love and God

These are the only inventions that can entirely burn the inventors.
Always Meaning more than Meant.

Liebe als Angst

Ich fuehle kein Verb, nur dein Vorname.

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und odhcnodeigsftschdoiedjhcocjgowztztfdkfsch
lutztshcdjgtitjatewqiztebxapehfginckehifaskjkioe
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Ich trinke keine Verse mehr, nur dein Vorname.

Gibt es etwas Tieferes als deine Haende?

Unmoeglich.

Die Kinder singen. Die Goetter schrieben.

Spontan ist Liebe immer das Schreien.

Love as plotless ballet

It is raining wildly outside. All vulnerable animals have disappeared instantly through my open chest. It was bleeding in the morning when I left home. I could not avoid its worsening and I am bound to take the nowhere train in the electrified white margins of my texts.
I imagine I am waiting for the One and No-one shows up. There is no line in my texts unaware of such sour wine. I drink it over again. Abruptly. Eyes and veins lost, sine die. Subtle pan-nihilism cooling your hands. I remember them perspiring in the first day. I fear dreadfully you do not remember anything and I fear you are right. "Clouds pass and disagree." I do not know the art of the passage. Neither does love, labyrinth of ties.
I had roses, white roses from my mother's garden. I remember my father watering them and his whistling or singing. At a distance, I try desperately to read his lips. Rosa, rosae, rosam, rosae, rosa. And he smiles as a child at the roses. He knew they would have entangled lives.

Para os Amantes Perfeitos

(Dedico este texto aos manos Fred e Daniela, Bruno e Marta; João, Tomás, Inês, Jacinta e respectivas incógnitas)

No princípio, queria que o meu Amor fosse um monumento de elevada civilização. O Amor deveria pertencer ao corpo das Belas-Artes. Iremos ao cinema, à ópera, ao museu, à biblioteca, dizia eu para a minha libido e para ti, de quem eu era coisa – todo eu era desejo de ser tua coisa, teu objecto, tua posse. Mas as fibras livres dos animais e das plantas, as forças ocultas das órbitas e dos ciclos dos seres inanimados gritavam de dentro das minhas células incendiadas. Amar-te-ei como uma força da natureza, como um vendaval abrupto ou uma chuva torrencial. Amar-te-ei como um animal selvagem. Debater-te-ás com a feroz ternura do meu Amor e ganharás sempre. Ao Deus que não conheço, peço, anonimamente, um acréscimo constante da terna ferocidade desta metamorfose incrível que é Amar-te.
Iremos ao cinema e ao sótão, à ópera e à banheira, ao museu e ao sofá, à biblioteca e ao tecto. Não ficará pedra sobre pedra nos nossos corpos. Os nossos corpos tão breves na história talvez infinita do Amor! Os nossos corpos oscilarão entre o vapor e a onda. Colocaremos, noite após noite, as mãos, ambas, sobre os nossos corpos, ambos, inventaremos os gestos que farão o rito da nossa verdade elementar, repetiremos o permanente diferir das rotações e das translações. Corpo a corpo, lua a lua, sol a sol: expansão do tempo único de enlouquecer profundamente ou de perder os sentidos intensamente ou de reconciliar-se com tudo e com nada.

Love as Tropical Jazz

One can rehearse some gestures in the dark.
One can have an attachment for some transitions.
Yet, the essence of love is improvisation and constant vertigo.

Kiss you everywhere or die trying (given your infinity I must certainly die trying).

I solemnly declare that my sole purpose in life is to kiss you everywhere and die - or at least fall asleep - mouth-to-mouth in the tropical sands of this world.