TELL me: where does the wind come from?
where do the stars come from?
what are these wings and walls that they take
around, around to be happy and straighten themselves
to return from what?
And for whom they carry around everywhere and the desire to return.
Give me the smell of their body
The smoothness of the body the sweet grassiness of the pellet
and the scent of their eyes, the road underneath that they keep marching
all the time in pursuit of each other.
Give me the softness of a human spirit and the weight of her soul.
It’s not because I ask for that I desire the animal,
that’s all, I’m only certain of what I seek.
Like eyes that sleep on the shoulders
like the fragile set of the hands
that are always looking for contact
and they might not find it, in whom they could be.
because the animal is too weak to survive the scouring flame.
Give me the makeup of their being
and the sound of their music
The bird that is like a triangle
that hangs like an anchor
The shadow that burns by going
into the sun and comes out of a hole
Give me the tree that grows in pensive sleep
The heart that lies by the feet
the lips the lungs the soul that dries up in its eyes
Give me the leopard that cleans up in it’s corner
and the jackal that does kill within its sleep
the bar that cleans up the wine
Give me the god who buries his hair
in the thunder that’s shattered the whole Earth
The pig that’s eaten all its world
The father that sits within the wall of fire
and the wing that does not flap
Give me the mother of a demon that reads its own novel
The sky that flies towards nothing
The roots that destroy everything
The post that does not reach the Sun
Give me the light that is being the light
that’s been in this world a long time
Give me a cave that seems to come out
to a party that is going to come out
of the garden that is being the womb
of the mother of the dead and the desert
and the mountain
give me
Nothing.
:: 07.27.2022 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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