When this poetry was published, I wrote:
The shift that took place within me after my "loss" is evident in this poetry. My point of view of this world is different. My sense of the world and existence is like a dark crystal reflecting the invisible aspects of my soul. Those deep water fields are where the dreams grow. And my sleep now has a crystal clear view, from where I can see. I'm letting go. That's it. I feel like I'm letting go. This transparent sleep with my dreams of reaching the other life brings me ever closer to the "forbidden" knowledge I seek.
Ode fifth, The announcing voice
The cicadas still upon the leaves
And the waters speaking under my body
With perfumes of an erotic night
Naked memory of the world
This is how i will depart bearing Junes
And as an icon that's gotten old
And smells of a saint's cloth
I will lay out my parts
Fractured
So that one by one out of them
The centuries of Sibylla will emerge
And all the unknown inscriptions will scent
Tender
Containing the Impossible
Like the drop of blood that contains
The abyss with the seven angels
Those who are tender
And the voice the one who evangelises
This is how I will carry on evangelising
Until my last drop of blood
The one alight on a silver candlestick
And from the open window
The storm rages
Hauls of prophecies on my body
Flowing towards unknown ruins
Where the hidden sun burns them.
From the open window the night
Ascending
And my room floats full of stars
Iridescent by the Invisible
I lay down to sleep in heaven
And my dreams phosphorescent
With fragments of unknown memory
Since
Plato signed my identity
With a sky blue seal
And with an angel's wing for the road
And here I am like an old house
With creaking floors
And from the storm's window
I smell the silver of my angel
Who stands sleepless on the eaves
I am light as a house fallen asleep
With all the faucets running
I bathe in full moon
And listen to the ghosts at night
That inhabit me for centuries now
Moving restlessly in my sleep
Full of shipwrecks and old heavens.
***
I asked nothing from your gifts
Only a handful of earth to stand
And a gust of spring to love
To fly away with the birds like youth
And with a full moon
An endless night in June
To roll again on pine needles
I asked for nothing
I only stood facing you
A rose sprang on the prophesy's rock
And on my clay the angel has blown thrice
The Notional Sun
To evangelize the Desert
This colection of poetry was published in 1995