A pure world

Seven vessels, portals,

Offerings at night’s echo,

Solar journey starts.

I

Nectar, blood of earth,

quenching thirst that won’t return,

immortal embers glow.

II

Water, mirror’s soul,

lips, hands, heart now made pure,

sacred space unfolds.

III

Petals, flying dove,

golden thread untwined, undone,

unstruck drum of deep sounds.

IV

Smoke, a serpent’s kiss,

disappears, ashes behind,

sweet scent of lost dreams.

V

Light, a blinding knife

pierces the veil to reveal

reality's mirage.

VI

Balm, a lover’s touch

heals forgotten wounds of time,

long-awaited rest.

VII

Feast, a new moon’s dream,

in all corners of space sings

life’s abundant song.

-

Seashell, ocean’s sigh,

from the deep secrets whispers,

ancient tales of wisdom.

-

For those who listen

in the quietude of the night

will cross the threshold.

-

There’s no moon, no sun

inside this golden palace

where it all begins.

Come.

*

Moonlight 

I found you this morning naked

shining with your dark green glow

in the depths of my bag.

Nestled between pencil shavings,

dust, and train tickets

for one.

We are the moon, you said

swimming in that infinite ocean

we built with our bare hands

as we praised the shadows

in search of duende

crescent after crescent

shining our own light.

With a brush I described

your elusive limbs

etched in burnt wood,

in your infinite wells of ink

I dipped my fingers to trace

the contours of your mouth.

Through scripts you

guided my hand in the direction of

fables, fears, and dreams, 

I showed you how to join the lines

of your hip with my waist

to write the letters of my name.

On a white sheet a few drops

hint at traces of what it was

or could have been

possibilities bloom,

yet undefined, without you.

In the depths of the evening

a full moon illuminates

the scrolls we left behind.

*

Celestial ornament

I'm running

on a cloud of corn and blackberries

heavy with the scent of summer,

soaked to the eyelids

with a single objective

for me and for everyone

to flee.

Floating

to the black room

silent and vast,

where reflection dwells

infinite

stripping me of sores

and glitter

with every breath

with every scream.

Little by little

there is pain no more

because there is no longer a body

where to measure it

and no eyes to see the measurement

nor cartilage

nor fingers with which to count

the steps to reach the edge

of the cliff

the number of bruises nursing

on the ribs

the cubic grams of salt contained

in my tears

because there are no longer fingers

nor things to count

with them

only peace

I arrived

*

Blossoming

From this dark cloak

stained with ink and sorrows,

Unrobe to display Your crystalline core.

Stepping into a divine form,

Boundless body of stardust.

Birthing Yourself anew

Pressed mulberry Your womb

where shadows retreat.

*

Flesh Moon
(Darkness against nature)

Behind the silk veil,

flesh tender, tangled,

blind ouroboros twists,

on itself, knots tighten.

Two bodies, a vortex,

a rhyme repeated

like ripples, suspended

in the ether's soft hold.

Between strangled gasps,

three thousand meters high,

cold light burns deep,

Phedra, the bear's thigh.

Sight unfurls, boundless white,

a winter dream of frozen fjords,

feet lose their earthly name,

whose are these lost limbs?

In this vastness,

full stops fall silent,

like a ship swallowed

by the dawn's light.

through the temple halls

a wind whispers

sweeping winter's dry leaves

under your tired eyelids.

Intertwined pink and white,

no you, no me, just pure space,

unfurling, endless breath,

on the balcony of dreams.

*

Malleable

Malleable, I bend—

a branch unfurls from my arm,

a frog rests, trusting

the hush of the void.

The sky above unfolds

in layers sunset bleeds

into auroras, colors drifting.

A moose roams the stars

in silence, with me.

You belong here — he says —

this ancestral land,

ours both.

In a quiet cabin, we rest.

A cat from Egypt appears,

inscribing an eye upon my forehead.

A bodhi tree rises

in its reflection

I murmur: I am the tree,

I am the Buddha beneath its boughs,

I am the roots drinking deep.

And I plunge—further

until a tribal dance awakens

an antelope with the dawn

spilling over its skin.

I am you, he whispers,

one seed, one river,

branches reaching separate skies,

rooted in the same dark.

*

A Perfect Place

A silver plate hangs high,

presenting a banquet for two,

of dead critters, spades, and

moss from forgotten years.

The moon finds our bare skin

like a flashlight it illuminates

passing through the prison bars

that protects your chest.

A card, dealt from the tide,

shadowed face looks away,

sinks in the ocean's wide,

cold depths, a sun's embrace.

Open-mouthed, I wait in awe,

place the whitest wafer thin,

silent offering,

on my tongue, a light within.

This paper, lamp of flesh,

flickers, rising to the night,

below, medieval town burns,

where I was last born.

Darkness falls, a fertile ground,

in the depths of my stomach

a million jewels dance

trembling fireflies of summer.

I map their constellations,

in rows of fours and threes,

in the shape of polygons,

a perfect, hidden maze.

Then I plot them carefully

mirroring the moles on your skin

a perfect paradise.

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