The Ofi Press Magazine

International Poetry and Fiction from Mexico City

2 Poems Published
By

By Rocío Cerón, Mexico (Published in Issue 5)

Translated by Tanya Huntington

 

 HERE

Here,

where it smells only of the greenness of time already longed for,

here, where the foot digs deep

   and nests

the strata follow pell-mell,

   irremediably,

to continue the smell of livid blood,

    a sea of shadows.

 

In precisely this spot, flooded by dreams

--having passed the disdain, the landscapes

of the dizzying surface--,

he unleashes shame and conjuring:

unburied bones, triumphant rage.

 

From the ruin

--the candle slit by the storm—

soldiers and whores watch the other side of habit

(painful feast of silhouettes, rising smoke of silence).

 

On target, riddled, the executioner and his desire,

transparent desire that wraps the body,

dust of breasts.

 

Here, in this house of blind bricks, of blocked doors

all hollows are devoured by weeping, effluviums of ire run free.

 

Once the fever has landed, the earth shakes; depths of vanished roses,

absence that he has established, where does the dove flicker? where the momentum of fire?

 

Standing, he watches the suspension of the leaf,

the transparency of the wound, left below

 

-buried underground- the observing eyelid, the omen.

 

Visioni simultanee,

Umberto Boccioni (1911-1912)

 

 

Diving Over City, Tullio Crali (1936)

 

 

UNTITLED

 

Dark world that you welcomed into silence,

along your borders wander now the rancid smell, the blindness;

grayish your environs and your mainland.

 

Naked (barely blue, lying in its squall)

you are destiny, the stultified ruse of the shipwrecked man.

 

You are inhabited by slime, the inaudible clearing of the throat

of the contemptible, the foul-stenched, the hypocritical.

 

Stridency of war your ire is called.

 

You sink (perhaps in mud, among the malice

of your sickle and the equidistant cry of the poor)

 

you sink into the yearning and the clamor of the times.

 

Your thickness, ancient,

your thirst quenched by blood / bones / columbaria.

 

You are weighed down –foundered--  by your people, their din of hunger and routine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rocío Cerón: Nació en Ciudad de México en 1972. Su obra conjuga la experimentación entre poesía, música, acción y video. Estos poemas provienen de su última colección: Empire.

Mantiene la página web: http://rocioceron.blogspot.com