(max Ernst And Dorothea Tanning In Arizona)
The rock grows like the plant grows,
by Carlos Barbarito
it feels the cold, the heat, fear,
cries out, shouts, laughs.
What can we believe, what measurement can we use,
from where and to where can we bring light to the shade?
Only the gaze, naked.
Only the dream, vivid.
To erect a house
in the desert, so that the wind
can beat it and, inside, to kiss, to bite, to believe
and to disbelieve, to remember, to forget, to remember again.
Who moans, trembles, desires,
implores more and more beauty,
enters the other as he later enters the mirror?
Another life that is also death,
quick and flashing shape of death,
it brings lightning, it illuminates secret sites, deep holes.