jueves, 26 de febrero de 2009

Juego # 8: What if

For Evelyn who yearns for lighter moods

What if?

What if you could just disappear
at whim?
People would be talking to you,
looking at you, and then...
Poof ! Like David Copperfield
you’d disappear,
and they'd be left wondering.

What if, you could become bigger
or smaller, at whim?
People would be standing there
looking down at you and then...
Poof! Like Mount Rushmore
you'd be
looming over them and
they'd be left wondering.

What if you could start all over again,
at whim?
or start in media res
just how you imagined it would be
and they'd be wondering.
Where did you come from and why?
And you’d be there
Mona Lisa rising in your countenance.

What if? What if?



¿Y si mis miradas no se posaran en tu rostro? ¿Revolotearían como negras mariposas ciegas, tropezando hasta caer?
¿Y si mis abrazos jamás rodearan tu cuerpo? ¿Se enredarían en un círculo vacío imposible de romper?
¿Y si mis besos nunca llegan a tus labios? ¿Me hincharían de deseo la piel?
¿Y si mis palabras inflamadas no pudieran ya encender tus oídos? ¿Morirían mudas ya de una vez?



Going Blind

what if a hand could pull magic from the air to make a dream a kiss to graze along the thigh, crook of an arm, blued underbelly of a sigh? what if the same could grip and knead and grope, anemone reaching for some thing new, salty, woolly and born under the fingertips, in the whorling grooves of skin. what if it could climb the long trellis of a throat, thumb the nervous box of a windpipe, make it tremble, stiffen, stream out thin reeds of whine, make it devil, then angel, till it pantomimes the electric endings of no and yes, yes, and, and, an, an answer, no question, no brea---, pulse, but storm, but strum. and whoosh. ah.


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