UNIVERSAL ATAVISM

Our parents' achievements seem like big dots
compared to our lifelines being traced.
The giant Morse code of life
emitting to regions unknown;
the future never shows itself to us.

Our parents, who left colorful gifts
by the christmas tree,
figurines of our heroes
or brand new bicycles,
now hand out consolation prizes wrapped in lies.

I lost all my wisdom teeth to the hand of a doctor.
Only the four ones that hurt are called wise
the rest are to show the whiteness of our smiles
and to voice the sound of anxiety as we grind,

I lost my book of god and took up books of men
the covers and sides were rugged
just like how life should be

and as i read the lines and pages
looking for a better reason everytime
knowing that in the end there's never much time left,
i sometimes feel we are decaying monsters
on our way to a place that has too many names
to be found on a map,
so we listen to the sounds of the machine
looking for our wisdom teeth and a heart.

EPIPHANIES updated

WORDS

Clouds move in groups
slowly like a fleet to the sound of music from my stereo
I put down my pencil
and choose to dig the moment,
bright weather makes things look nice.

Thoughts float in past and future
the written words sticks and stings.

AT A PARTY, EARLY JULY

The source of torments in the mist of sweat and smoke
the tangle of sonic serpentines only stopped by the stone corners,
the sound of words from the brains and vocal cords
stopped by a shrug and a sigh,
The will wandering inside,
the truth of disappointment,
the sharp veracity of the void.

The need for structure and the breaking of it between the pillars,
the speakers have stopped
the grils'll leave, the men'll fight
billions of barking brats
doubled by the devotion of desire.

The joy of fear,
the call of the abyss for the end of destruction.

A girl sits on the floor
hiding her panties with her skirt
her eyes brightens and she smiles through her tears.

The warmth of her smile,
the sheen of the bathroom tiles between mudstains.
Among the remains
the bodies have fought and fainted,
the claims in vain that repeat and dissolve in the air
while all the guest disperse on the parking lot,
the vanity of the tangible ,
the veracity of the void.

The dried tongue of the poet
outside the pathetic circus of skulls,
The tentacles of the tormentors on the shepherd's staff,
the power of the verb,
the veracity of the void.

PORSCHES AND BIRDS

Cycling on my way to work

Two Porsches glide past me,
one silver, one red

smoothly adhering to the curves of the road,
the front of the machines swallow the asphalt
and see the stripes succeed under.
The golden crest with antlers and a horse
shines in the sun.

There's a dead bird near the curb.
Once borne by its wings from roof to tree
and anywhere it wanted to be,
once looking down at the World
now looks up at the sky
from a broken skull
or maybe down from higher above,
if there's a heaven for birds.

Father, is there a heaven for men?
Is there a heaven for Porsche drivers?

I hear children voices,
they hold their father's hands
on their way back from school,
it's almost five in the afternoon

I'm still riding down the road
but stop at a red light
on a bridge above railroad tracks.

The clouds are all gone
but the sky's still filled with faith.
I think of a girl, what she told me
and what she wrote me in the cover of a book
_____and as the light turns green
i hear ring in these words the true names
of the Savior.


FOURVIERE/BE YOUR OWN GOD

The last time i visited the basilica i told the priest
and a man that Jesus wouldn't have minded me keeping my hat.

This time i was with a gorgeous girl
We walked down the marble steps
leading to the side chapels
and while looking at a kneeling angel i thought:

If god exists he doesn't exist here
among the decoration
the chalk-white statues and stones
the representations of his son,
the stained glass and arches.
She admired the glory of Christ
with the same eyes
that like ikea furniture.

We sat down on the long wooden benches and argued
about her ex.
Yes Father we had sex
and without God's consent,
and everytime i laid in bliss
still annoited by hormones
it's not Him i praised but her white body
glowing to the candle light.

She wouldn't talk to me for a while
her eyes were fixed on an effigy
and mine on a mosaic representing ships.

I got up and to examine it
as the gold on it glittered.
I looked at the rows of oars, the smoke
and noticed the dozens of drowning turks,
arms stretched to the sky
to implore a defeated god.

I looked at the whole thing
saw the details and imagined the work.
They should’ve tried that at catechism
when they tried to make me acknowledge God’s greatness.

I looked down and saw her two eyes aiming at me
like darts at the cork
blue and round
from the rows of benches.

She asked me why some angels
were looking down
and why some looked happier
and she translated some words in latin for me.

She was the most beautiful thing among the sacred mess.

A smiling lady opened the doors telling us to be silent
and we entered the chapel of Mary during the office to see
all the people lined up in silence.
Their voices suddenly raised in unison and died out
as the feeble ones were still whispering
their words of hope and faith.

I was looking at candles in a box

i remembered that prophets and followers are wrong
i looked up and the smile on the lady's lips had not gone away,

I put the candle down in the box
and realized that
like when old people look at vanities
the truth lies on the thin metallic layer
behing the glass of the mirror
and knew that all the while
_____Ariadne's thread was running through us saying:
_____untie me from this post called today.

photo by Korina