GREEDY, IT’S CARBON THAT COPULATES ...
Carlos Barbarito
trans. Brian Cole
°***°
Greedy, it’s carbon that copulates
and not the flesh. There are days
when a feather lasts
longer than a mouth, and
a deep, sludgy water
carries consciousness away from the eye.
Who is living? A disposition,
a phallus of darkness, a book
in the middle of which nothing was written,
a stained-glass window without tears?
The innermost heart, very deep, the mirror:
Time's prey, spirit confined
to an edict, under
a tree of phosphorous, barefoot,
halfway between abyss
and ether, Mahler, Schönberg,
Varèse.
I seek her and strip her naked,
I penetrate her, among immense cities
that catch fire,
but however much I seek her she is further away,
beyond every form
and event.
There must
be a secret fold
in the uniform, a set-back
to desire, a rip
in the singular and precise.
But, where,
how, why, by what
gravity or justice?
...
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