Poesia kaiera
Amorruaren fenomenologia
1
Ero erabatekoak duen askatasun hori
bere erotasunean lohitu eta jostatzekoa
hatzak hortxe barruraino sartu eta
gelaren luzera idaztekoa
ez da noski zuk Broadway-n barna
izaten duzun askatasun hori
gelditu, bira egin edo aurrera jotzekoa
10 bloke; 20 bloke
baina inbidiagarri izango zaio agian
engaiatuta dagoenari
elikagarri behar zuen baina itogarri zaion
errealitatearen plazenta horretan katramilatuta.
2
Enbor heze erori bat sutu nahian ibili naiz
etxe honek zutik iraun duen artean:
makila lehorrekin ere txinpartarik ez
ezta arantzekin saiatuta ere.
Azken urtea bihurrituta, korapilatu ditut titular zaharrak,
baina arrosa hau loratzen ez.
Nola sentitzen da makinistak eskuak garbitzeko darabilen trapu-pila
tiraderan sartuta, orduak joan eta orduak etorri?
Beroaldian, egun oro,
belar-sorta bezain bero jartzen ziren.
Uzkurtu nintzen, iheslari,
belar onduaren epel goxo eztian
xuxurlatuz: Zatoz.
3
Neguaren muin laua.
Badatoz berriz ilargitarrak ilargitik
irten dira suhiltzaileak sutatik.
Denbora, gusturik gabe: denbora, erabakirik gabe.
Monotono bat buruan, norbere buruari gorroto.
Erbestean bizitako bizi baten azalekotasuna
baita herrialde beroetan ere.
Cleaver, labanaz betetako leiho bati begira.
4
Argi zuriak zatitzen du gela.
Mahaia. Leihoa. Lanpararen itzala. Zu.
Nire eskuak, modu berri batean itsaskor.
Hilekoaren odola
zure ondotik isurtzen bezala.
Saiatuko al zaizkit epaileak esaten
zein ote zen zeinen odola?
5
Erokeria. Suizidioa. Hilketa.
Ez al da beste biderik?
Etsaia, begi-bistatik kanpo beti
elur-erraketetan hurrengo basoan, gorderik
elur-nahaspila batean, elur-panpina gorrotagarri,
behin izakirik suntsitzaile
eta iheskorrena izan zena
My Lai-n haurtxoei goitik tiroka
liskar bete-betean desagertzen.
Airearen eta ilunaren printzea
gorpuak zenbat diren zenbatzen, masturbatzen
egitateen
egindegian.
6
Hilketa-fantasiak: ez aski:
mina etetea da inor hiltzea
baina hiltzaileak min egiten du gero ere.
Ez aski. Amesten dudanean topo egin dudala
etsaiarekin, hau da nire ametsa:
azetileno zuria
uhinka nire gorputzetik
erraz-erraz askatua
ezin hobeto bideratua
egiazko etsaiarengana
haren gorputza garbatuz existentziaren
haritan
haren gezurra kiskaliz
mundu berri batean
gera dadin; gizon bat
aldatua
7
Bat-batean ikusi dut mundua
ez dela jadanik bideragarria:
kanpoan zaude uztak erretzen
sublimatu berriren batekin
Oraindik biona den ohe horretatik
irten zara goizean
eta hor joan zara ezina zabaltzera
munduan
Gorroto zaitut.
Gorroto dut zure maskara, zure begiak,
berez ez duten sakontasun hori
bereganatuak, bultzatzen nautelarik
zure kaskezurraren haitzulora
hezur-paisaiara
gorroto ditut zure hitzak
gogora dakarzkidate irudi
iraultzaile aizun horiek
gerra-zelaietan saltzen dituzten
imitaziozko pergamino lehorrak.
Bart gauean, gela honetan, negarrez
galdetu nizun: zer sentitzen duzu?
sentitzen al duzu ezer?
Orain, zure gorputzaren tolesturan
bizigai genituen soroak hostogabetzen ari zarela
badakit zein den zure erantzuna.
8
Mundu ertz-tolestua. Ilargi harrak jana.
Zilarrezko zehar-marradura zurbil bat
metalezko bahe baten antzo ur
beltzetan. Fenomeno horiek denak
behin-behinekoak dira.
Atsegin handiz biziko nintzen
andreen eta gizonen mundu batean alaiki
elkar hartuta hosto berdeekin, zurtoinekin,
hiri mineralak eginez, kupula gardenak,
belar ehunduzko etxolatxoak
zein bere eredura.
Konspirazio bat, existitzeko
Karramarro nebulosarekin, lehertuz doan
unibertsoarekin, Gogamenarekin batera…
9
Umeak eta beste emakume batzuk
baino ez ditut maitatu benetan.
Gainerakoa haragikeria zen, errukia,
autogorrotoa, errukia, haragikeria.
Emakume baten aitorpena da hori.
Orain, begiratu berriz aurpegira
Botticelliren Venusi, Kaliri,
Judith Chartresekoaren
irribarre ustezko horri.
10
gure bizitza nola erretzen ari garen
testigantza:
metroa
ziztuan Brooklyn-era
emakume bat, burua belaunetan
lo edo drogatuta
la vía del tren subterráneo
es peligrosa
asko, lo
bide guztian
beste batzuk, eserita
aireko su-zuloei begira
beste batzuek, matxinada buruan:
gaurik gau
kartzelan esna, nire buruak
koltxoia miaztu zuen, gar batek nola,
zelda-blokea orroka hasi zen arte
Thoreau basoari su ematen
Kontziente bihurtzeko ekintza oro
(hala dio liburu honek)
ekintza antinatural bat da
The Phenomenology of Anger
1
The freedom of the wholly mad / to smear & play with her madness / write with her fingers dipped in it / the length of a room // which is not, of couse, the freedom / you have, walking on Broadway / to stop & turn back or go on / 10 blocks; 20 blocks // but feels enviable maybe / to the compromised // curled in the placenta of the real / which was to feed & which is strangling her.
2
Trying to light a log that’s lain in the damp / as long as this house has stood: / even with dry sticks I can’t get started / even with thorns. / I twist last year into a knot of old headlines / —this rose won’t bloom. // How does a pile of rags the machinist wiped his hands on / feel in its cupboard, hour upon hour? / Each day during the heat-wave / they took the temperature of the haymow. / I huddled fugitive / in the warm sweet simmer of the hay // muttering: Come.
3
Flat heartland of winter. / The moonmen come back from the moon / the firemen come out of the fire. / Time without a taste: time without decisions. // Self-hatred, a monotone in the mind. / The shallowness of a life lived in exile / even in the hot countries. / Cleaver, staring into a window full of knives.
4
White light splits the room. / Table. Window. Lampshade. You. // My hands, sticky in a new way. / Menstrual blood / seeming to leak from your side. // Will the judges try to tell me / which was the blood of whom?
5
Madness. Suicide. Murder. / Is there no way out but these? / The enemy, always just out of sight / snowshoeing the next forest, shrouded / in a snowy blur, abominable snowman / —at once the most destructive / and the most elusive being / gunning down the babies at My Lai / vanishing in the face of confrontation. // The prince of air and darkness / computing body counts, masturbating / in the factory / of facts.
6
Fantasies of murder: not enough: / to kill is to cut off from pain / but the killer goes on hurting // Not enough. When I dream of meeting / the enemy, this is my dream: // white acetylene / ripples from my body / effortlessly released / perfectly trained / on the true enemy // raking his body down to the thread / of existence / burning away his lie / leaving him in a new / world; a changed / man
7
I suddenly see the world / as no longer viable: / you are out there burning the crops / with some new sublimate / This morning you left the bed / we still share / and went out to spread impotence / upon the world // I hate you. / I hate the mask you wear, your eyes / assuming a depth / they do not possess, drawing me / into the grotto of your skull // the landscape of bone / I hate your words / they make me think of fake / revolutionary bills / crisp imitation parchment / they sell at battlefields. // Last night, in this room, weeping / I asked you: what are you feeling? / do you feel anything? // Now in the torsion of your body / as you defoliate the fields we lived from / I have your answer.
8
Dogeared earth. Wormeaten moon. / A pale cross-hatching of silver / lies like a wire screen on the black / water. Al these phenomena / are temporary. // I would have loved to live in a world / of women and men gaily / in a collusion with green leaves, stalks, / building mineral cities, transparent domes, / little huts of woven grass / each with its own pattern— / a conspiracy to coexist / with the Crab Nebula, the exploding / universe, the Mind—
9
The only real love I have ever felt / was for children and other women. / Everything else was lust, pity, / self-hatred, pity, lust. / This is a woman’s confession. / Now, look again at the face / of Boticelli’s Venus, Kali, / the Judith of Chartres / with her so-called smile.
10
How we are burning up our lives / testimony: / the subway / hurtling to Brooklyn / her head on her knees / asleep or drugged // la vía del tren subterráneo / es peligrosa // many sleep / the whole way / others sit / staring holes of fire into the air / others plan rebellion: / night after night / awake in prison, my mind / licked at the mattress like a flame / till the cellblock went up roaring // Thoreau setting fire to the woods // Every act of becoming conscious / (it says here in this book) / is an unnatural act