Todo cae

Cae una estrella, cae el quizá, cae el cielo, cae el presente.

Cae un recuerdo, cae la nieve, cae una cortina, cae el futuro.

Cae la noche fría, cae la lluvia, cae el nunca más, cae el pasado.

Cae ceniza, cae un tal vez, cae el telón, cae un mañana.

Cae granizo, cae una nube, cae un ni modo, cae un ahora.

Cae la madrugada, cae de golpe el ayer, cae el sereno, cae un entonces.

Cae la tarde, cae un quién sabe, caen las hojas, cae un qué tarde.

Cae el medio día, cae un jamás, cae el dolor, cae otro futuro.

Cae una lágrima, cae la dicha, cae el frío, cae todo junto.

Cae una mirada, cae el remordimiento, cae un por siempre, cae un otra vez.

Cae suavemente, cae de golpe, cae lentamente, cae por fin.

Poema originalmente publicado en tuits en @minafiction

Packed and sealed

A box full of unfulfilled projects, lost hopes, impossible dreams. Ready to bloom, disembark, get rotten or forgotten.

A box full of steps, twists, dances, approaches, mountains climbed, paths explored, floors tapped and destinies wished.

A box full of colourful thoughts, sketched ideas, recurring nightmares and fears, unknown doubts, bad and good stories.

My favourite perfume, the perfect jeans, a simple but exquisite pendant, loads of red kisses, some old but pretty shoes.

Marine salt from far away, avocado leave powder, dried chilies, Turkish delight, olive oil, onion flakes, mezcal & honey.

Images lost, moments forgotten, hanging places, sepia memories, a black and white childhood, a strange place in colour.

A very cold winter, three mountains, a repetitive summer, a couple of oceans, over thirty springs and fifty dance floors.

The aroma of a romantic night, a path never followed, Moroccan rose, fresh cardamom, and the perfume of a distant memory.

Sea shells, a sunburned photo, a tiny pot from a huge city, feathers of departed birds, a keepsake and a fresh memory.

Wonderful worlds written in paper, playful words, humanity at its best and worst, fantastic images and endless stories.

Ink full of notes, stories, words, watercolors, worlds to discover in graphite and clay and colorful ideas to play with.

Past dinners and future martinis, imagined dishes, the house’s specialty, and a deep longing for hot tea & berry crumble.

Series originally published in tweets @minafiction

Definiciones

La vida es un huracán cargado de fauces y plumas. En una vuelta te encaja los colmillos y te mastica, y en la otra te envuelve y acaricia.

La noche es un mar de alas de murciélagos que se nos viene encima. La caricia de las sedosas alas conmueve a algunos y enloquece a otros.

El olvido es un pantano de petróleo que todo lo engulle. De vez en cuando, las flores más luminosas resurgen de entre sus aguas, encendidas.

El deseo es una marea de neblina espumosa que se pega mientras aprieta la piel, que avanza mientras cascabelea. Es el aire que se cierra.

El amanecer es una ola de molestas hadas brillantes con cascabeles en los pies. Solo los pájaros y el río les festejan tanta luminosidad.

El dolor es ser habitado por un castillo con puertas que se abren y rechinan y se cierran de golpe.Son los pasillos que caminamos sin cesar.

El enojo es una bestia herida que corre por las venas arañando los órganos. Es una hiedra que ahoga las vísceras. Es una cuchillada al agua.

El día es un griterío, una explosión, un concierto de trinos, el viento que se eleva, es alas y fotosíntesis. Va y viene, y da la vuelta.

La duda es una marea perdida, nunca deseada, nunca esperada, nunca olvidada. Va y viene, crece y decrece. A veces, hasta parece desaparecer.

La tristeza es una parvada de golondrinas volando en círculo dentro del pecho. De vez en cuando, una de ellas se estrella contra el corazón.

El sol de la tarde es una epidemia de augurios que acaban en un atardecer rojísimo lleno de nubes verdes. Como si esa hubiera sido la idea.

El ego es un monstruo de apetito voraz. Ciego y sordo, perdido en un laberinto, solo sabe de su propio tamaño y los halagos que lo alimentan.

El odio es un pabilo buscando el sol, un volcán en el iris, un gusano enroscado bajo la piel, la droga más dulce y la promesa más grande.

El mar es un naufragio, un déjà vu, un sueño insomne, el silencio que retumba, el horizonte adormecido. Es lo que somos, fuimos y seremos.

Some routines

Sleep dream snore awake shower eat move work work dream work dream work work eat work work work go move dream eat sleep sleep go dream dream

Dream write dream write dream dream fear dream trust write dream smile dream doubt dream doubt dream write dream doubt believe dream believe

Click open read yawn close search find open read read read smile click read click read click open close click open read yawn yawn read close

Think think talk think chat laugh kiss talk embrace listen think think talk touch think doubt talk listen listen listen listen listen listen

Broadcast lie lie lie smile lie lie smile lie hypnotize smile smile lie joke (badly) laugh smile lie smile lie smile hypnotize smile lie lie

Work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work work enjoy

Sleep sleep snore sleep dream dream dream awake sleep sleep sleep tremble sleep dream sleep awake tremble sweat worry hope sleep dream awake

Check phone check check chat answer check check listen look around check check chat check phone chat check phone click check phone check tap

Kiss see kiss talk laugh lick hold grab kiss touch lick caress pull grab kiss lick touch hold move kiss hold moan kiss moan scream pull kiss

Steal lie steal display show off bluff lie lie steal campaign lie bluff campaign promess lobby show off bluff lie display promess lobby lie

Busy busy busy busy busy busy love? busy busy busy busy fun? busy busy busy busy love?? busy busy busy busy live? busy busy busy learn? Busy

Tweet post read reply stare tweet tweet post text stare post tweet text read think reply tweet tweet text tweet tweet stare tweet tweet text

Breathe remember remember long love remember regret remember smile regret remember remember cry yearn miss remember miss cry cry breathe cry

Watch smile hug see watch smile love love love smile enjoy smile love watch talk stroke caress caress smile love love talk watch smile enjoy

Pack close fold wrap pack long wish long carry bundle up pack close move open unpack hope wish hope unpack unwrap unfold unwrap open restart

Series published in 15 tweets @minafiction

Frozen burnt

A frozen moth flies                 too heavy        too slow                     the light too far 

A burning flower perfumes   too soon          too late                        the moth too senseless

A frozen light approaches     too dimmer    too dark                      the city too blind

A burning sea howls              too deep         too shallow                 the shore too far

A frozen sky falls down         too harsh         too sad                       the fog to low

A burning room lures            too smoky       too intense                the flower too close

A frozen fog moves               too slow          too thick                      the forest too far

A burning city screams         too silent         too garish                   the sea too far

A frozen sea undulates         too silent        too immense              the sky too close

A burning forest crepitates    too alive          too imprisoned           the clouds too far

A frozen cloud falls               too fractal       too broken                  the sun too far

A burning memory hates      too hard          too much                    the room too lonely

A frozen time speaks             too far             too cold                       the memory too close

A burning body invites          too hot            too lonely                    the time too soon 

A frozen rain drop falls         too heavy       too fast                        the river too far

A burning shore dances        too languid    too violent                 the hurricane too slow

A frozen sun illuminates       too weak         too far                         the moon too dark

A burning mountain dies      too alive          too vast                       the rain too scarce

A frozen hurricane slides      too loud          too wet                        the coast too close

A burning river ignites          too quiet         too light                      the mountain too vast

A mild coast roars                 too deaf          too caressing              the body too unaware

Poem originally posted in 21 tweets @minafiction.

Preface to "Scylla and Charybdis" by James Knight

Mina Polen’s Scylla and Charybdis is one of the most extraordinary poem cycles I have read in recent years. It expresses something essential about Mexico, its people, its politics, its darkly dazzling dreams, using ancient myths to illuminate a complex contemporary world.

The synthesis of the real and the imaginary in Mina’s work locates her in a vibrant Latin American tradition that has produced the likes of Octavio Paz and Alejandra Pizarnik. Her work is surrealist in the hallucinatory power of its words, images, patterns. Nothing feels contrived, nothing is forced. Her imagination interacts with Mexico, transforms it, reveals it, makes us see it afresh.

As the title suggests, this book is full of monsters. Not toothless literary creations that melt at dawn, but the real monsters ravaging Mexico: capitalism, drugs, crime, a corrupt government, impotence, apathy. Despite this, the word “hope” rises from the pages, forms strange clouds. Every reader will see something different in those misty shapes.

—–
You can buy Mina’s book here.
Text and image are the copyright of James Knight. All rights reserved.

Scylla / Charybdis

Scylla wants your broken hope

your broken bones your broken blood

Scylla eats your body parts

your sex your youth your coming sons

Scylla loves your golden blood

your brain your thought your solid mould

Scylla longs to be your King

your queer your dear your fucking Queen

Scylla hears your step your breath

is underneath your wrecked health

Scylla feeds your stupid pride

steals your wife your fetid life

Scylla fucks your fragile mind

your feeble kind what lies behind

Scylla strives to carry on

to vibe your womb to squeeze your lung

Scylla steals your future gone

your fractured bone your fear undone

Scylla drinks your holy thirst

your lowly gasp your wholly peace

Scylla hates your languid tears

your liquid fears your lucid years

Scylla gutless.

Image by James Knight.

Charybdis whirls

and you see pearls

Charybdis speaks

and you feel weak

Charybdis lures

and you sense cures

Charybdis shows

and you feel throes

Charybdis dances

and you see chances

Charybdis shines

and you hear rhymes

Charybdis strips

and your head flips

Charybdis kisses

and your heart hisses

Charybdis lies

and you eat flies

Charybdis hides

and you drown in tides

Charybdis sings

and your trust springs

Charybdis scuttles.

  -----------------------------------------

These are two poems belonging to the series of poems published as "Scylla and Charybdis". The book can be bought here and the preface of it can be read here.

Paralysis

Numbness

a whirlpool circles above our heads

            it whispers      it sting us

numbness

and we can walk amongst the dead

            they are not here

                        they were dropped off

around the corner

numbness

and we can laugh

            with a little shot

                        of anaesthesia

Blindness

and we can run and befog our hearts

            we can follow the candy floss

blindness

and we are not here

            we are never there

                        we never were

blindness

and Scylla is not what it seems to be

            it does not have so many heads

                        nor dried blood on every scale

Deafness

and nobody screams nobody cries

            they are not there

                        we cannot hear

deafness

and music is all that we can hear

            there is no screech of broken lungs

deafness

and we can sing

            nobody out there

                        fear is not knocking

on every door

Muteness

and we cannot talk with fragile voices

            nothing to say

                        no need to speak

muteness

and we can hum a lullaby

            no words no tunes

                        no dreams no faith

Paralysis

and Scylla smiles.

This poem belongs to the series of poems published as "Scylla and Charybdis". The book can be bought here and the preface of it can be read here.