I am the first
I’m at the beginning
In the middle of the gloom
In the particle
Of this sunset
And to the edge
Of the collapse.
I am all
When you first stepped on the floor of the dying kingdom,
You forgot your inherited signs.
The compass was lost by the glittering stars always in exodus.
The old religion was demolished
And the incessant breathing of your morality was never heard.
You were multiplied in the feast of cuts and tears.
You followed the course of the packs. Now you do not have a name
There is a name that I drink
Half solar alcohol, half secret water
There’s a name that I scream
Mixed in the bustle of the others
There is a name that I caress
Piece of forest
Warm and persistent
There is a name
River, sweet arrow and sweat.
You once followed the course of the packs.
You once followed the course of the packs
By that smell of furrows
By the dizziness
That was spilling
Above the crowd
You learned to bite
And to dismember as the others.
Tore the veil
Of the night
To offer you a horror
You killed your own in the dark.
You were part
Of the weakness that you devoured
Your body or a distant country.
The maps as a fragile truce,
are made of scattered atoms.
To reach your boundaries and touch your skin
I must discover
The burning zones and the shortcuts of the random.
The lubricious compass will expel me
to the center
of the anointed war of love.
I will arrive to lose myself between
the sacredness and the whirlwind.
The ancient spiral of desire
still devouring pulsations.
The heart is an arrow and a target.
Your body is a distant country.
Dream with a river of signs
as violent as beautiful,
wake up with the indelible convulsion of the waters
in the body.
Sweep colors and feel the urgency
Of the unknown
The usual streets
are now blurred
and the faces previously loved
are now broken.
Drink by the eyes the hallucinatory light of the sunset
Walk without direction and live
the untranslatable ecstasy
that only feels
the spirit that does not know
where it goes
The irreducible feast.
Millions of heavy glances thin the climate
and they attack against your fragile look of love.
The smell of helpless queen movable
strangling the perfume that stirs your heart.
The hunger of so many who forgot their own signs of light You close, to devour the flame
Which only feeds you. In you there is a sweetness soaked with crime,
In the middle of the aridity you hide a garden.
While outside only the terrified silence is breathed
There’s music in your head spinning in your veins.
Your love is an irreducible feast
in the midst of the massacre.
What has not passed you.
You seek in me the unannounced and your eyes exhale a circular plea.
The persistent fog of that which has not pierced you
Corrupt your clean certainty.
You seek in me what hurts,
That wild trait that hurts to touch.
The incommunicable, which subsists
By the beautiful wrapping and the plastic stars.
What you catch in the middle of the smoke
If you get the exact hunter blow.
What the indomitable grid expels
of a dark and brief sea.
You seek the matter pulsating and elusive.
And finally sweating
shaken by chaos
you give yourself
to that which has no name.
Sometimes I am
sometimes I am
Sometimes I am
sometimes I am
Everything revolves, although
there are moments
where the skin feels like a burden
and tired eyes are closed
the days seem echoes
everything is moving impassively
and the time we exchanged
The sky over Berlin.
The foreign look flies over
the rotating decay and the ripped fever.
you ignore the clamor of the world
the playful cruelty of the unsuccessful search.
the ancient voices demand that you bite love,
like the fugitive and terrible apple that you must consume
eat it before it rots.
We vibrate a fragile attempt to touch the infinite
despite everything you abandon your neat position.
you get dirty at pleasure in that liquid look
who begs and drags you
you surrender to the labyrinth. you prefer to burn.
not even an angel knows it. love is a trap and also a miracle.
in this way
( Micropoems Prize in Spanish of the III contest TRANSPalabr @RTE 2015, Spain).
The white tremor.
Today we can tremble
we can whisper
all the pain of waiting
and narrate how we drank the ocean
To find us
Before living in this white room
Were we just a number on this sleep-walking land?
Now we are a city that vibrates with laughter
with the heart in the hands
and our breaths very close.
We can not believe
that today we can tremble
of the other.
About the Author
Mariela Cordero is a lawyer, poet, and visual artist from Valencia, Venezuela. She is the author of The Body of Doubt (Ediciones Publicarte; Caracas, 2013). Her poems have been published and won prizes internationally in Italy, China, England, Spain, Argentina, and more. This poem, “Public Body” (Cuerpo Público), won first prize in the 2016 Colectivo Poetas Hispanos International Poetry Competition.