RADIANT IN SHADY WATER, de Manuel Lozano para Liliana Herrero
RADIANT IN SHADY WATER
The worst thing is that we think. Is not man’s loneliness maddening? We are the only thinking beings amid the worlds.
Pieter van der Meer de Walcheren, Nostalgia of God
To Liliana Herrero, thaumaturge voice.
First Nocturne of the Office of Darknes, ask me.
Solitudes are heard in the deserted garden
And I scratch and slice the doors
That one day will open in me the inhabited.
The liturgy is merciless:
The cathedrals gnaw at the edge of the planet
The certainty of the bones.
You can never be satisfied of contemplating just like that
The cruel amphitheater of revelations.
As the intrauterine phoenix bird eating
Your skin until exhaustion,
The skin as far as the tattooing,
You are the final crust of melancholy.
Why did I wander in the black water
With all the smoke of the past
And the extreme unction of the executioners?
I will sing a realm of endurance:
Chimneys, walls, blackboards.
The ecstasies was a whirlwind
In the blown shade of the inauguration?
Sumptuous, this loneliness
Divides the waters with your music making tongue
To adhere my blood in the broad daylight of the cry.
Doubles of fake births,
Don’t fall in the quagmire of Medusa.
Protect the wondrous song of the grass.
Store me away in Shakespeare, in spider-god, in seething mass.
The kingdom is slanted:
It leans toward the blood.
Manuel Lozano
Mato Grosso do Sul, mayo de
2006
THE APPEARANCE OF BREAD
There is fear always, including for that which has been found.
Pascal, Discours sur les passions de l´amour
To: Liliana Herrero
What devotion consacrates you before the merciful?
I dream of Him and his head inflamed
From the inconceivable language (without snares, charms, nor syllables),
Flogged by the most pure storm,
The unavoidable spider of the stuffed
On this side of vapors, claws, and irons,
Corrupting your precarious sorrow
As far as the eyes can see.
Come to me with the afflicted decorum of the deserter
That carries on his back the elusive cathedral full of bitches.
What admirable sore bemoans on the side of my imperfection?
You were casted by the mouth that perceives.
Why did you testify with the waste of your parents and brothers
To the possible, midget inhabitant of that lust?
Is it that perhaps there was for me a house sunken
In the elemental clay of the panther and the maple-tree?
Never a house for me, a sentinel of the inferno?
Not in there, there never were the guests of her sleeplessness,
Henchmen in ascent to the fever, feather among the rocks.
But what is it that you want to do my beloved death!
And I said there was a sun’s gust cracking the designs,
But nobody heard.
The fear –that withdraws and subdues-
Would ascend by the threatened flesh.
What perplexed snow over the rotations of this future opulence?
Masked in a clump of immense solitude,
He required innocents for the misfortune,
Exhibited, impregnable, perforations of pain in these niches
Descending like foam toward the place where you are
Fallen toward the interior and in darkness.
The glicines remember me, follow me, and poison me.
Is this the wind that disappears
Where at one time love sketched like the white lightening
Over the golden curls of the liturgical mouth?
Burglar, count the days: shatter yourself.
Pity the hands that can not find the flowers.
Pity the withered that ceaselessly travels through magnolias.
Not even a shelter, nor a drop of sealing wax
Stuck to the altar cloth of the dead.
What yields to the inflexible transfiguration
Of the punished by the night?
This is as far as the scent of your child has come,
The incorruptible sum of Thot’s tribes under the moon?
It was on a fourth quarter crescent and over your head.
Manuel Lozano
