Voices
For Andre Breton
through the shut blinds
during the yellow fire
of noon
when the statues are silent
and the myths agree
voices
vibrate
in the side street
slowly
at first
then thundering
in a fast pace
and they suddenly reveal
the eternal secrets
other times,
certainly,
they are terrible and scary
like tombs
and other times
like the caress
of long
fine
fingers
and call each
with their name
they call
the spring water
mouth
the tall,
black trees
forgetfulness
the night
in the ravines
Omphale
they call the crying eyes
girlfriend
the fresh red lips
leaves
the erotic teeth
nightmare
the purple bedsheets of Eros
abysses
the black waters
of the harbour
oil lamp
and they call
the rusted anchors
the lament
of dream
they put colourful feathers
on the saddened
glance of Orpheus
on Orpheus’ hands
they place fans
they rip
his flamed
cloths
they decorate his head
with fine lace
(They secure
flags
onto Orpheus’s
head)
they spread
blood
on the chaos of oracles
and they call
the palm trees
torches
again
they stay
sobbing
on the word hammer
they call silence
the word gate
they call death
music
between the temples
and they call
my heart
a forest
in the night
Libros Libertad 