Friday, October 16, 2015

Jorge Eduardo Eielson (1924-2006)

there will be the purest of machines
a perfect copy of itself
& it will have a thousand green eyes
& a thousand purple lips
& it won’t be of use at all
but it will have your name
oh eternity

endless digit endless dig-
it endless digit that never
splendorous quantity
splintering zero
you tell me why
you tell me where when how
which is the blind thread
that burns between my fingers
& why the closed skies
& my closed eyes
& the sand in its entirity
under my shoe
& why in the sunlight only
in the sunlight I wake up
in the sunlight I knock off

oh laberynth
goossestepping diamonds
eectricity that sings
in its high divine cyllinders
how far now my heart
my intestines & my voice        everything
mysteriously ready in cupolas
selfsame like the seasons
or the cape of the hours
everything in search
of wonders that don’t arrive
of evaporated worlds
of faraway & high velocities
that don’t forgive

No comments: