Two Poems
2020; University of Oklahoma; Volume: 94; Issue: 4 Linguagem: Inglês
10.7588/worllitetoda.94.4.0069
ISSN1945-8134
AutoresNoël,
ResumoImprovise walking along the Piedras River, January 25, 2020 improvising by the Río Piedras I resume the fibers of my voice years have gone by since I named cliffs years so fierce and bleak we barely survived them we almost gave up perhaps we live in another dimension now another voice blooms outside itself indistinguishable I don’t know how I feel when you look at me it’s all a function of the telephone screens of desire I don’t see myself in you as before how many devastations these days how many collapses don’t tremble on me hand give me the pulse to keep scoring my steps with what little that’s heartfelt I have left these black waters of the Río Piedras centuries of discharge voice not pure but rather with no infrastructure let’s assume this is urban forest like in one of Bea’s videos or whatever we call natural the pipework dreamways it makes you sick it makes you scream burning grove ruse of our caribbeans future and past garden invisible right now with its plastics the drastic territories of my voice no time for fineries this explodes city of gutters I said island that flows without a course that is your beauty and your curse I find myself in you again under the shade of that impossible tree not Klemente’s the one that’s declaimed in the confines of the mind that is the universal soul but rather something like its subsidiary wellspring of my terrors named at last get fed up you fuckers demand something more than these slips of voice repudiate the cartographies of your sentencing let us be diners at the table of infinity without colonizers it all begins with a green iguana with a wasp nest with the neural termites that give us life let’s call it rhyme rivulet where I die and am reborn give me your stones be my skin that rots away and that catches a glimpse at last in the twilight of capital copy this in your digital notebooks we are animals and we will return to that earth-soul there is still joy the joy of knowing that we die and are born each day enough already of the forbidden I don’t hear the noise of law only the murmur of your waters on my temples you don’t stop in some way the little turtles inhabit your contaminated history always excavated there’s something that nests in me something like the ecology of dreaming no one can exterminate the insurgent vermin of our song the u.s. army was here has always been here occupied the land measured it scoured it and gave it back to someone else concealing the origin of laughter the root of pleasure they trim trees yes and they trim dreams but they rise again in seedlings of rage they call it art or politics or activism but it’s all one drive one pain the body carries just as they play national anthems on rickety pianos it’s up to us to imagine alternatives to the nation and its bad state to splinter the voice to study the impregnable to inventory our property of bones on the soaked earth of this post-anthropocene Two Poems by Urayoán Noel WORLDLIT.ORG 69 oh how nice that I’m losing my voice that my phone is dying that my time’s running out soon enough now I’ll be able to become one with the void from which I came the grandstands with no cinema where they narrate existence without moorings bodies tied to one another we have always been we have always been light lacerations of sky combinations of chemicals alchemies haphazards accidents that need not be corrected I bet on the combinatorial force of this fury the foam of the Río Piedras runs through me foam of my convulsions of my parallel realities of my abrupt parables of my insatiable hunger for the living dead to speak through me the wakefulness of a language in exile is that and nothing more a disguise phrases concealing the frenzy façades before...
Referência(s)