8
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book 1
Mauricio Otero
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From the clear seas of Venus - for example -

they would take light to illuminate themselves before knocking

at the door of the first

abandonment of the green teat of the ancestral

hills.

So that light is eternally light and

the night goes on forever like a

bat with all its blindness:

to make it possible for us to see our true faces

the sparkling, the dazzling faces

of in-mortality!...

So that memory remembers no more

and everything is present and future

and the love of Love goes from mouth to mouth,

perfect butterfly, happy and healthy!

Because we don't like what we are already being more

what we were not or what we are forgetting to be,

being a thing disfigured by traumas

and nicknamed as ancient sorrows.

It should be No More!

there must be total Liberty, the liberty of liberty

fluttering like a cosmonaut who breaths

/pure stellar

space

with no more guilt, with no more rancour, bleeding

our skins of epidermis and we should be

the transparent idols of a cosmic life

without statues

of ourselves;

shining the shine of the sameness

of the public intimacy of those who achieve

re-birth.

.............................................................

Matter? Anti-matter,

Hate: Love in reverse.

Thesis and antithesis, all and nothing;

microcosmos is the same as macrocosmos.

See my fingerprint and see galaxies.

Loving hate; hateful love of love alone;

The smallest is the biggest;

The most colossal is the tiniest.

I know (because I've been from end to end of the universe)

that there is a solar system, that it is an atom

which gives me life,

that becomes huge and makes me take the milky way.

The Milky Way - when I went through there -

I was rolled up by the hand-arms and the

feet-legs, that dropped snakes and ladders

My eyes changed into the sweet milk

of venusian dawns

and what I saw then was the bud of the spiral

atomic galaxy.

The galaxies have wings

the atoms are tiny birds

in the cosmic sierras:

pure springs of star water

give love to drink to all beings

in all universes;

even those who are yet to be born drink

and the last drinkers go away with death

or the mega dawn of eternity.

The horsemen of morning.

I saw the Universe sleep.

I saw its dreams: eternity

and its paradigms

and I felt the elixir on my tongue...

When it's cold in the cosmos.

it feels hot

When it's hot the stars cool down.

Matter and anti-matter

love each other

each for its part

welcomes and rejects the other

and the thin veil that separates them

comes back to join them without ever joining them

until the loving annihilation.

The music of the star

couples

with the anti-star

and beats, beats, beats

while it can,

sipping the musical cups of sweet salt tears,

because pain and pleasure

need each other and

sorrow and happiness are marrying;

their naked legs intertwine

in the spatial bed.

The cool aroma of the space

of space

bathes the shivering glances

and the rhythm enfolds the desire

for what we always never were or never will be

But something everything happens:

Light, give me darkness!

You, darkness, give me light:

so that eyes can always open and close

close and open

all the days of all the universe;

so that the pot of the perennial

can be emptied and filled,

between (the shadow) and /clarity/.

There over there more there

brain-heart

of any being of

imaginative cosmographic reality,

if you can see me,

maybe if you hear me,

if you see my face,

give me the answer of dead life

or of live death!

so that we can understand

the message from this starried region

so we can accept it all and not vomit up the nothing

or little pieces of the whole

dressed or

naked...

"Over here, yes, here

we are

being.

Come closer strange beings

we have life and death,

do we have it in common?

we are brothers

needed

by the others;

do we have all things in common?

"But haven't you seen passing by

our ovule ships

they detach themselves and fall

off the Map of cosmosic breath

Perhaps you have sponsored

the fertilizations by orchestras

of synthesized

sperm

floating in bluish silks:

they can feel them pass silently

like a whisper in the night

that they understand

playing dancing sweetening themselves with

aestheticism."

They kiss the cadenced music

and spread the ecstatic-erotic seed through

the metagalaxy

of the sidereal orchestra!

Your mysteries revealed;

enigmatic revelations.

E.

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