Perpetuum mobile
On the beach at night showed my eyes
sirens impunity
playing with my penis with the phallus
in the stinking bed
dreams undone and the stone falls to the ground
thought.
(Leopoldo María Panero, Dawn on the grave, in "Poetry" 1970 - 1985)
"I'll kill you tomorrow when the moon rises ... Leopoldo
he kept repeating his litany an and again and again while, as if it were part of the poem, shaking his head in itself is not eternal and sucked his cigarette choking with laughter and drool hanging from idiot who knows everything.
The sun warmed the day to make it boil and lines that drew trees, benches and roses floating in the breathless air. All was quiet and kept moving in a repetitive rhythm that denied the possibility of the same movement.
"I'll kill you tomorrow when the moon rises ... and Prime loon tell me your word.
"I'll kill you tomorrow when the moon rises ...
Jacinto came again to ask a blond Leopold.
"Fuck you up the ass, you big bastard. Crazy, I berated his balls between laughter and mumbling and gave umpteenth cigarette immediately returned ceremoniously Jacinto thanking him with a respectful nod.
This scene, as anything that happened in that kind of prison garden, he had repeated monotonous millimeter throughout the morning: Leopoldo with his poem, Jacinto with your ceremony, Israel with its small weeping and disconsolate, Ramon becoming its eternal straw, Toni "Insane" with its leaden speech denying his madness, Miguel asking the sky every three seconds: "Will it rain?" And answered every six: "No, no rain" ... The great symphony of madness was timed and tested each of their movements in perfect perpetual motion than any sane viewer would have remembered a clockwork.
The time of the visit came and automata were surrounded by people dressed in street with smiles embedded in his desire to leave this pathetic parody of broken beings. The lunatics had the same desire for visitors to leave, but they always preferred to ignore them and take them for fools. Leopoldo touched a woman's ass ass stiff and without claiming to be the mother of Toni, but he denied it, and the nurse scolded her fat ass, more by envy than by conviction. Leopold laughed; is Descojonado, rather, and continued his insults without rhyme or reason, then approached me and said he felt proud that we were the only ones that we visited one since the two were actually dead from the moment we killed our mothers.
I said yes, yes, and I turned from him to see if they kept quiet the music was ringing in my right ear. It was an aria from an opera by Puccini, "O Mio Babbino Caro", which spoke of a river and a ring and a sadness that I did not remember having ever felt, but the music washed over me and I could not think of anything , could only hope in my head the next note of the melody without end that I had tied to the patio and sun and those crazy people around who much annoyed. Sometimes I was angry and tried to break his face look so put them to not see the soul, but then the nurses grabbed me and I sedaban and then the music washed over me completely and I just wanted to stop, that stop, but it sounded louder and louder and turned into things I saw and then burst and panic and sweat to drown again.
PO all sitting on a bench at the other end of the garden, was John. I went to him and sat beside him in silence. John was reading the same book I read forever. Do not really read because John could not read or even turned the pages, but it sucked the hours lost watching and reciting lines from the book what he thought I was reading. I liked to stay with him and hear him because what he said was always very nice, never the same, and I thought that was the letter that was missing from my music.
John continued to read for a long time and I almost freaked out when he suddenly stopped reading and looking at the book and was looking at me intently. He smiled with a gesture that could be confused with friendship and asked if I could read. When I answered yes, he asked me to read it because I wanted to know if what he read was what was in the book. I took the book and started reading, but did not say a single word to put there, but let all come out of deep inside me, where it was so that I could no longer get in and out slowly those other recesses of my childhood, those eager to believe, that love without love and the music stopped for a moment of torture and let me see her face and saw John smiling happy to see that what I read was what same as he read the book and rang the bell at the end of recess and we all went to our rooms happy to lose sight of visitors and live our lives.
More information:
http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leopoldo_Mar% C3% ADa_Panero
http://www.letras.s5.com/fv161005.htm
http://www.flickr.com/photos/yeyo1/3915531994/