vency's P O E M S
Against Europe American Design Corals Solitary Quarks Windy Universe Sadness Sisyphus Solitude Lost Window Computer Memory
I carried sacks of wheat and sunflowers in armful
because I knew the chill and thirst
of some empty centuries
in this poor land - realm of beasts
just called Europe.
I shed on the ground all my loot:
dreams, work, love, looks.
But the way is coming to finish
I don 't want more to breath
within such desert of minds
within such dry brushwood
burnt by hate, withered by ignorance.
I leave here everything
I 'll go somewhere else
I want to give my bones gnawed by drought to by wind
WHILE I WANT to BE FREE
FAR AWAY
FROM this KENNEL of IDIOTS
America,
where pathways are open in the sun
and women are smiles and sounds in the wind.
I look for America from this remote
and abominable place called Europe
mother of nazism and fascism and communism abjections.
I want to be free at you, America,
I want to be near voices
making pathways flourish on the moon,
I want to plug my feet in your lands
up to become a tree of your forest,
I want to be there, America,
under a desert of light
where lost gates become buds of quarks
frenzied in the hands
WHERE WORDS do SPREAD INSIDE a KIND of RAIN
DRAG the UNIVERSE in the DEEP SKY of the MIND
and do SHAPE it.
I gather rings of looks
to make corals of memorywhen together we'll fly
on the waves of the sea
to play with sand
in a sunny courtI'll untie the laces at your feet
so that you'll see
the white stripes and long
of freeloading minds
sliding on the sky
in a morning springtime
Solitary QuarksI must stop to run
I'm lacking space
only a window
and a wall of books are sheeting my days;
I look around this empty space for a Country,
too far from here
from this infinite lack.
I watch small quarks on the palm of my hand
as shining traces of seaside sand
and I feel the absence coming forward
with its empty time:
it will cover me with heaps of earth;
I'll unable to embrace my chained books
I'll unable to move not just a bit;
the Silence will overtake me like an ultimate disease;
I'll became unable to see your smile
so that someone will hear in the air
a crying long, subdued, desperate
I'd
like to see quantum computers
exploding
in the heart of the Galaxy
I
would want the echo of this sound
to
reach down to me
with
its small warm
to
fill the palm of my hand
with
its yellow island of sun.
The
sadness come out slowly
and
does not surprise anybody
not
even the silence;
on
a secret road near the wood
I
put my coat on the ground;
but
I don't feel chilly
or
perhaps I'm not aware;
I
took by hand my silence
because
one dreams much better
in
falling dark
and
it come out very slowly
without
gripping anybody
some
deep sadness
I'd
like to take Sisyphus on my shoulders
I'd
like to scream in face to the entropy of time
that
no universal law can stop the running,
I'd
like to cover all the roads
searching
the women making living minds
to
see the sky shining in their eyes;
while
still I had not done a single island of numbers
but
only bonds and ribbons
with
an infinite strand of words
Everyone
lives alone, desperately alone
the
ghosts of community and fate
are
only tears and pain
nothing
else
the
truth is still the same
as
it was in the beginning of time
and
no one would think it to be relevant;
what's
meaning the sudden warmness melting eyelids?
shortly
afterwards, as if blood drops should be drunk's spits
everyone
goes back far off
we
hold by our arms a solitude deeper and broader;
we
resume living,
we
forget of being alone, desperately alone.
I
would meet the moment
where
the life ends
where
it ends the long wait too
where
if I say to the fingers to stir
they
don't move a bit
where
does not matter if I have done enough
if
I haven't had fast thoughts and bright
if
I had not captured the time
with
glassy neurons and silver
if
I had not known...
if
I'm tired...
I
only want to restore my first breath
to
be asleep within
Shining
mental structures
appear
and dissolve,
on
the green mirror of the computer
nearly
nothing is impossible
behind
the hard heart of the screen;
inside,
few
cubic bits of siliceous neurons
waiting
always to explode
at
a single hit
in
vertigo's of speeches among electrons
and
after only few moments
laying
down in writings of answers,
without
end.
I
pursue your image
inside
some memory circuit
it was a nice evening
I
feel again the fondness of your hand,
your
compliant harm,
the
bending of your body
cocking
your ears;
an
intense flow of feelings,
a
scent of senses.