Wednesday, April 24, 2013

[Poema 24] Blues on the horizon & shells in my house

Before my last heartbeat
I want to accompany Billie Holiday
with my jarana and my soul
Find a corner in an alley
of a brick building
where her voice will echo
all the way to the Río Grande Valley
where her flower will never wilt.

Before my last breath
I want to place my mouth
over the Grand Canyon
howl at the cruel insistent winds
that have carved a gash on my lungs
where tourist take their photographs
leaving trash behind
drive-by shootings
and I to let the wind continue
with her inhumane operation
giving the earth open heart surgery

Before my love withers away
I will smooth your face
place my hands in the curvature of space
where her hips have carried humanity
since the day I was left alone
You will not cry again
except to gasp at what my body does to yours.

Before the last word is thought
I will forget everything I have done
and regret all the time I was without you,
the terrible storms
that demanded tenderness
not pills
to quell and soothe
to place my arms around yours
to love and not blame
to surrender and not forget


En mi casa
habitan caracoles
donde descansan y sueñan
las espirales de mi lengua
y sus múltiples lenguajes
en la casa del caracol

Mi lengua
es un huracán
para llegar
al Pacífico
de tus ojos turbulentes
Hay que traspasar
por la doble tormenta
de mi cuerpo y su lenguaje:
vientos caracoleados
por la tranquilidad
el sol

Mi lengua
está hecha
de los huesos más
en la historia
de huesos y lenguajes
Es el pulpo
en el mar de los sonidos cósmicos
y lenguas terrestres
que se arrastran
a rodillas
a la catedral
de tus oídos


Que fascinante
cargar la vida
un rato
sobre este
esqueleto universal
bajo el cielo mimbrado

my skin, my tongues
my tattoo history, my whirlwind words
my liquid suns
her roots, vines
scurrying patiently
tightening, twisting
around my skeleton
I squeeze into a cave
a sideways womb
of dust, mud, rock
my ancestral mother
chanting, grunting, panting
sweat lodge
my body...

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