Re-Nascer

Nada temas, disse a Mulher ao Anjo que tremia diante da tempestade.

As aves renascem das pedras sob os teus pés, Hora Inclinada de Ânsia.

by ties of re-birth

I am ground down in misery, a chain of ripe irons 

ground down my stumbling on my hands forever 

never dreamed of such an appalling Fall

the force of actions becomes the weight of sufferings

my actions are here my sufferings  

ground down

The Beloved promises against the mouth of Loss

an oracle carries me in her womb to approach your Face

No Name names Thee

I am the horses joining the battle and the virgin sisters struggling within silence far away

 diction contra diction and nature contra nature your lips flashing

torchlit cries inside the key of silence homeless silence

wing me into your Longing into the whirlwind 

our armies are soon joined by chariots of Awe and Chant 

to save the borders between hearts

I'm filled with voices suffering suddenly 

groping towards you, The Suppliant One

deprived of streaming tears engulfed in beams of Fall  uncertain bloodshed soon

on the brink of touching the raw nerves of Love 

stony shores of Love

uncertain strength inside our struggles between borders

Are there cures for rocky mountains of Silent Flesh raging

diction contra diction 

nothing in Word 

but skin catching wildfire

I am the work of a Fury  

infinite powers of Furies united

by ties of re-birth

nothing in word  

warm voice

Here speaking vaguely to me. 

bodies in pain were lying 

on an unmade bed. hours. 

my steps are the Disorder of the signs

towards the Master drawing further 

till Alive.

my tongue and throat is your caress, Dark One. 

your path through my mouth retracing the Originals.

Here, the orphanage where god catches a glimpse of the truth. I exist no longer breath but waters unfold like an animal opening the World between us. it is bleeding across the lines. I wrote to you with my warm saliva on the table among knives. Why not? 

thoughts unwind flesh. it is bleeding and growing the wound . only prisoners of war understand this leisure.  love is barbaric. it knocks and remains silent for a moment. then it knocks again and cannot be denied without wildfire, in its giant naked wings. 

Everything spins about me  looks at me  I know the bottom  the blinding bottom... 

ni père ni mère

voilà mon histoire: une porte s'est ouverte à travers la roue du jour jusqu'à l'heure demi-nue demi-brûlée

au petit matin je n'étais plus seul dans la cellule  il y avait un condamné qui attendait l'invention du Dehors

sur le toit une femme  écrivait mon souffle lourd sans demeure sauf une chaîne d'îles très confuses tourbillonnant dans mon souvenir d'enfance. maman berce-moi contre la Genèse. le monde est un escalier qui plonge dans ma chair. j'oublie la marche et la parole de la marche dans le combat sur le gouffre. 

nos bouches se rapprochent tout à coup 

peut-être dangereuses au bord  du vol 

nos bouches chassent la respiration

pour lire la même page de vent en ruine. 

l'amour travaille. épaisse écriture des pieds qui tuent les angles de chute. une course oblige le coeur à suivre le marteau et les coups de hache sur l'écume pourpre. je frissonne d'ignorance. 

au hasard 

un coup de dés parle de la Genèse 

à travers nos haleines peu à peu sauvages prises par la ceinture pour danser davantage. essoufflées. 

une vibration fait osciller les feuilles où je t'aime. je me souviens d'automne qui pèse de tendresse à distance contre les murs où un jour la Porte enfoncera le monde contre l'extrémité sanglante du rêve, ma rivière au fond de Tout. 

je tourne sur moi-même inconnu  liquide  illisible. 

On me crie d'autre langue contre depuis ma langue. 

je caresse la terreur qui dort avant le bain répété pour répondre à la prière des fables. les lettres pleurent ou presque. autour. mes genoux tombent brisent la lecture des seins. les larmes embrassent très fort les seins. les toits explosent les femmes nues davantage. 

dis-moi ta prière dans ma maison où il y a ardemment de quoi brûler des millénaires de peau. le livre croît rouge jusqu'à la dernière fibre de tes seins aériens     

The Flashes at Midnight

...No Name names Thee, my sun within.

clouds disagree and translate my isles into beams of Saturn. 

clouds paint the cave revolving my mouth around fruits of Passion. it hurts and burns, your flashing my blank moon off-shore off-skin. come here, Nowhere, and give me your Fountain asking for much nonsense over flesh rowing these waters  serene  extreme  the first verb flagellates the Whole and the Only, my longing for waves  foams  masses of air  every kiss collides against the bottom.

come down. paint the cave the interiors of the Heat  serene  extreme  ascending to dilemmas  and guitars  more strings than veins  How did the node tear the circle? How did the birds nest in pain and flight?

Love you from a distance. talking on the verge of loss and dawn. come down and touch the many veils of dreaming  ripe for Passion. unknown path with sand-storm in the mouth guitar, solo. sailing the strings till naked sfumato as matrix of the Whole and the Only foam, warmer than those palms painting the cave of Hours Here. Nowhere, unless bathing and flashing at midnight the Impossibles asking for the books of skin unveiled to the first lips...    

espumante

Acontece-me 

uma flecha

Onde

Shades of Originals

a new sfumato in my painting the cave

bodies in pain taste the fruit of passion  your oscillating matrix within breasts

naked sailing the catastrophe off-shore off-voice kiss the border all night

come and taste this fruit in pain climbing naked the future birds

flying and perching  flying and perching  or dancing towards Nowhere. Here.

tensely tongues build the guitar the solo the taste of the fruit in pain and veins and verbs 

sailing verbs yelling from within the first foams. verbs running through those veins of Hours.

tensely tongues open my well between breasts where birds perch and plunge and nest. Nowhere.

tensely tongues touch the door  the floor asking for Otherness till Excess. The Originals. The Flashes.

the dream starts playing the piano at the windy port and drinking much nonsense. all night. Nowhere. Kiss my walls here. Eve is the sun. I am the cave painting Eden with foam off-shore  off-angst. against the rock. palpable breasts of flowers and warm skin furiously climbing that first verb. Say it. Yell it. 

tensely tongues blow the lips the bottom. Eve is the first verb under the sun. the fruit is burning. all vectors point at the sun from a distance  through my walls speeding up towards. Nowhere. Here.

tensely tongues touch the first verb off-shore off-Eve. nonsense asks for temperature  of flesh.

Can you grasp or kiss or drink this Only tongue? tensely? while the bottom ex-poses the heartbeat of the fruit  extreme  peak  from isles  born in my volcanoes at midnight or later. all night. layers of skin  and spirals of  impossibles are ripe for translation. the veil of Hours dream below and rotate more than naked cliffs of skin hungering for the Originals. Tongue after loss and shades of loss fusing with purple birds. heartbeat calls veins from a distance. here

no name names Thee 

Ex-Posed Heartbeat

I am painting the cave with sand and blood.

birds working Desire

fly and perch 

fly and perch

achieve a new sfumato 

purple red yellow and nothingness

If only I could touch your darkest cell

so full of naked circles climbing deserts 

amid the path of our life

If only I could stay by the breasts and rivers 

so full of naked flames I cannot read.

So many bodies in pain under the bridge of my oscillating matrix. sparks of real nerves and flowers leaning toward rapture 

while words by lines unveil devoured flames.

There is only one Event: Springs of fire. 

Eros - Heartbeat

My flesh burns new language into bodies of mine, presumed to know the grammar  and labor of becoming paradox. Not known, my nurse of becoming sleeps while my crossing, breaking, entering the temperature of excess.

why am I in the cave? painting my spirals of not understanding? regaining my heartbeat louder in the depth? I ask you, trickster.

I enjoy the altitude and the ground flow of your silence, Intensity. Between zero and infinity, my heartbeat through spirals. I am the sculpture of speechless birds

flying and perching

flying and perching

within these furious branches of my Climax

The spiral of my heartbeat plays the full Enigma of high temperature melting rock and breath. both summoned into being. vessels navigate and yell. Apocalypse. off my Climax. 

passagens ardentes

levanto-me das linhas dos textos dos sonhos

o coração submerso imita a paisagem 

as correntes cortantes 

os cristais de perfume

 os sabores do Desejo 

desde o fundo do alfabeto 

pernoito no vértice do naufrágio  somente para escrever sobre Longe e esquecer sobre Íntimo e apagar sobre Tangível

as palavras abrem a boca a casa a floresta com o Excesso de Sismo. 

aquecemos uma mão noutra mão no labirinto mais fundo de ausência e de vazio rubro. 

tanto perigo na tarde 

e tanto sol no colapso 

e tanto barco na solidão 

dilacerando as aves ínfimas 

a loucura da derme de ti em mim construindo 

sílabas sibilantes para outra Ilha 

as aves irrompem nas dunas abertas das vogais à beira-mar da tarde vulcânica. mais nada. senão a voz de areia e a saliva de pânico semeando outra flor nos dedos nos lábios nas minhas nuvens baixas escrevendo na tua madeira oscilante.

nas curvas do abandono, não sei onde. o fogo acalma o corpo, gota a gota, rebentando o obscuro Tacto do amor furioso.

escorre a melodia do sangue no oculto fumo do Desejo. não sei onde. senão amanhã. no peito cruel dos sinais escrevendo a nudez lenta. 

escorre o Nome deste mar  inclinando Kaos para beijo 

frente ao lume denso 

e respiram as conchas dentro da ferida que vem 

e bebe e canta o suor da obra 

o grito da espuma dentro da ferida dentro da obra 

uma porta na pedra. não sei aonde caminhas... falamos baixo passamos ardentes sob a última dilatação das raízes ofegantes

transpiramos flutuamos alastramos a nudez sem medo de morrer aqui. quando a noite cresce sob a ponte do crepúsculo. todo o Desejo bebe os animais. o texto faz relâmpago e saliva enquanto espera pelo último véu. dormimos no chão sobre o fogo mantendo o Kaos aceso nesta Língua  que clama sempre mais do que nomeia. lembro  não sei onde  a eternidade partindo nos cavalos lancinantes da alba... a lua quebra o arco do medo de morrer aqui.  bebemos a catástrofe desejante. quase álcool  quase morada. persigo teu rasto. através  devastação talvez. tactear teu rasto e reler todas as falésias em mim... mantendo aceso o Princípio até à argila do dia máximo da Criação. Dói-me a minha nuvem no teu desaguar. Desejo a Desordem das bocas furiosas para Desaguar. Tudo é Cintilância... respiram enfim todas as margens da página Amante. Devoram-me enfim todas as Esfinges e todas as Falésias. Escrevo sobre a tua pele 

chão indecifrável para nascer em segredo 

esta outra Língua que vem talvez no auge  

anoitece mais aflita do que o meu falar para mim 

treme mais indefesa do que ternura de espesso fogo       

the mist speaks

mist speaks 

that language of foam 

you do not know