Luis Alonso Cruz. Poems

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ko'rishlar soni

The Sybillas of this town

speak to me in the mirror.

One and zero,

they type desolate

like a bridge between unstoppable words

                                         and the dark abyss

Beautiful this omnipresent silence!

The stars

don’t forget.

The mind, yes.

So the oblivion is a city

where nothingness

cracks the space,

distort the light

and makes everyone blind.

Sweet Revenge.

Oblivion is also people’s clothes

that hides his memories

and neither God,

like a pearl in the sky,

avoid the veil of its inhabitants.

The mind is a reflection of nothing.

With nothing,

ghosts appear

like electrical pulses in machines

or the numbers on the phones.

***

Eurydice,

your ghost memory

it’s beautiful.

When the hammer sounded,

her voice created shapes

and dementia entered

through the pores and veins

Do butterflies — holograms — flutter when she walked?

Maybe

butterflies were just old papers

yellow

that announced deaths,

overdue mortgages

or politicians doing the freak circus

Is she still on my mind?

Or is it just the light that sings?

Things

                 they move away,

memories are supplanted

and everything is scattered

but the sun never hides the memories.

***

Is love logos?

Not,

Love just disappear the things

and there will be no atom

no language

to find -all- that destruction.

And

with love

we came back,

to be cretaceous dust

a trace of the primordial root

verbs

before the explosion

and acoustics in a vacuum.

Definitely,

the little faults

are inherited for love.

Javob yozing

Izoh yozing
Ismingizni kiriting