The Expendable Poet

Collective trophies crisscross on the revolutionary

boulevard, under compact fluorescent streetlamps,

the accipitrine memory – a gaia in a tarmacked diary –

breathes stiflingly, like the prelude of race engine cramps.

 

Decidedly, the sapient semicentury is effortlessly

consumed by the assiduous rubber tire dust,

while dreams stretch out their trunks guilefully

under the metallic silver blonde fondling to lust.

 

Abstemious neckties undo themselves grey-blue,

the networks unfurl their picturesque adhesive,

how oppressively must the basement imbrue

one and all ‛for free’, when passion’s bowl is decorative.

 

The missive torpedoed in the rotary printing press

would often whimper viviparous distichs,

chiefly endive-flavoured poems, lines of languidness,

viands that rodipets and rodipettes would double-click.

 

The skimble-scamble nymph mixes votes and rhymes,

underlines gems on the manuscript, tempestuously,

precipitously conducts intellectual fencing mimes,

mortifying the expendable poet unchivalrously.

 

Outsoaring from the hefty burden of princesses

you flicker – flambé – an irregular didactic dream.

Dare you look into my eyes ? Among thermotigresses,

you’re a ship’s log, mere forceps, apfthae in your beak ream.

 

Sunflower in My Eyes…

I feel the evil eye goes crosswise…

The moments’ dewdrops gently caress me

along the leaves of my finger tree

with fairy tales from beyond the clouds,

where the diligent rainbow dawns moulds…

The core quietly comforts me at the crossroads,

I’m a sphere’s fruit wherever my soul floats…

 

Adorn my heart’s desire with swarms of bees,

time’s lid-ripened seeds soothe bended knees,

with harmonies of summer hearths,

let stepping into flowers be a condor’s birth… !

Let’s tread the wheel into a spiral spinning

ignorant of clay and rancid varnishing… !

 

The wicked cohorts in mischief fail to kindle,

I can cross the lifeline without a spindle.

Negation stealthily recedes into tucks of distress,

the coke love pays tribute to voicelessness.

Sunflower in their eyes,

wells feel the evil eye goes crosswise…

 

English version by Gabriela PACHIA