In memoriam. L. C.
For Marguerite Duras and Francesco Tentori Montalto
Seated at the bottom of a lake.
She has lost her shadow,
but not the desire to be, to lose.
She is alone with her images.
Dressed in red, and unseeing.
Who has reached this place
that no one ever reaches?
The lord of those dead who are dressed in red.
The man who is masked in a faceless face.
The one who came for her takes her without him.
Dressed in black, and seeing.
The one who didn’t know how to die of love and so couldn’t learn a thing.
She is sad because she is not there.
oh please
midnight has come
and it is the cold
the night
the one I wait for doesn’t come
For Ramón Xirau
Word by word
I had to learn
the images
of the final other side.
tonight I’ve seen
but not.
no one’s the color
of the deepest desire
I’ve terrified myself, I’ve grown grey,
I’ve dusked myself,
my tongue doesn’t know.
I sob, I look at the sea and I sob.
I sing something, just a bit.
there is a sea. there is light.
there are shadows. there is a face.
a face with the features of a paradise lost.
I’ve been searching.
but that I’ve been searching,
but that I agonize.