pervasive spirits lose me within susurrous translation
I cannot find my own.
It is too deeply entombed by the same hands that crafted it,
the same hands that defined it,
a temple of absence
spawned
by golden tinged asphyxiation
my anima,
long-stagnated and sewn
into plethoric earth.
This anima,
from moonless sleep and languor
wants little more
than to be found,
wherewithal an emptiness unfelt until it was gone
was hiding,
amid penumbral eclipse
somewhere,
behind a physical dynamic,
a sacred flesh,
warm lilt of soft milk earth
a scintilla,
of river soil
in which beneath,
lies labyrinth of labyrinth,
machine after fragile constructed machine
suggesting
a clock.
este reloj que baila con el cuerpo
invisible
del tiempo,
whose unwavering presence brought me to
glistening luna
brillante,
que se me miró,
and I followed su sombra en la noche infinita
desde el callejón
donde
ella me encontró jade green burnt orange eyes of glass
bomba de relojería,
ticking under concrete
y cuando la traducción me pierde,
aún más,
al dentro
de una negritud pura
embodied by space itself,
y cuando los labirintos se doblan a sí mismos,
and retreat to a place of origination
y cuando se borra el tiempo lo que las máquinas
han dejado atrás
feigning,
a clock,
una bomba de relojería.
La luna me llevó al interior de todas las cosas,
en donde un alma oscurecida
se reveló,
a silhouette,
quivering in mist
and tangled in riddles
todavía distanciada
behind catacomb doors
yet such an existence I never doubted
as surely
as a story without a beginning,
a story without an end
espiritú, alma, anima,
found.
