When space is silence…

Words, sounds, and space…


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Amelia and the fall

The underground’s entrance is a clown’s mouth   

Amelia thought of the path she used to walk   
         eternal afternoons   
         blissy oblivion   
         shiny silence   
Then came the fall –she whispered — & death   

Mysterious smile   

Two days ago she longed for that path
     yearned for its scent
     missed the idea of it
     or so she thought

 _ DiStortEd nostalgia __

Yesterday she stumbled upon the entrance
      where she drew a cat
         where he drew a box
           to shelter her mark

Expired unreality

A lonely cat was there
    facing the snow and the rain
    unprotected    smiling under an absent cover
    not suspecting      its own delusion

Failed utopia

Amelia shed a tear —I need to see a box?   It was here!  Right here!     Right   h e r e
Erase this non-existence!    Let it appear!    Let me be  blind!  let  me  forget
Let that single memory be real!  Let  
–Amelia … — AHHHHHHH!

A past that might had never occurred lies under the eyes of a clown


_____Adriana Citlali
XVII-III-MMXV

Open Link Night #145 | dVerse.

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Cempoalxóchitl

                  After all these barriers

                  After all these deaths

I’m standing right here
in front of the gloom
holding this flower

Awaiting the sun once again
Pretending dark is the effect of an old eclipse

The dusk surrounds me
                      trying to shade my eyes

I have made a decision
I’ll trust in the sun
and its ephemeral or perpetual blaze

Knowing  it  will  glow  again
To  cover  the  fields  with  green  light
To  paint  orange  flowers  of  death

VII-X-MMIII
XXVII-IV-MMXII

Cempoalxóchitl is the náhuatl name of the Mexican Marigold flower dedicated to death since prehispanic times. For more information, you can read:
Living in Mexico: Our Mexican Marigolds – Cempoalxochitl, the Flower of the Dead,
CIASP Diary: Flower of the Dead,
or
Days of the Dead.


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The aztec dream

The Aztec Dream

I want to join that sweet abyss of lethargic dreams
where consciousness is optional
and memories are allowed to disappear

I fear the seconds
the light and the person in the mirror
the one who can’t appreciate solitude

I long for distance, silence
Those ghostly noises can only talk about you

This suffocating reality
                               is an endless bad dream

I want to wake up
disintegrate the nightmare

Join the ancient aztecs in their rhythmic dance
invoke a new sun
wake up to real life

XXVII-IV-MMXII

This poem is dedicated to Charlie’s friend…