The Reverse (Fragment 1)
Instead of what we conceal, the reverse would be a way to say.
Fake softness of cactus’ bristle, thistle, caterpillar.
Precarious harmony of families.
Affirmation of the gap, trap of the case ––––––––– sometimes, speech,
Frail machine with seized brakes. Terraced construction that hammer and chisel loosen
/ wall, hollow tooth, original anomaly.
An instant, the words’ force loses its balance — only for a instant.
The reverse –––––––––––––––––––––––––– a backwards energy /
that concordance stuns.
Pigs, sheep, cows. Bottoms in the wind, frolic.
[how can we still eat ham ?]
Circumscribe a space ———————————–––––––– you say.
The border close at hand, a way out, a crossing.
All the necessary potential for a temporary stop.
Words we don’t say / inevitable meetings / mountains’ slopes.
Does the reverse share with the right side the edge or the flat ?
Does the reverse share ?
If the right side is a place, does it declare a dismissal for the reverse ?
Does it foreshadow the loss of itself ?
The place, bitten, as if marked by a drift. The reverse, driven in, hammered.
Which one determines the other ?
The pigs. Snouts rummaging turned up soil. Renewing arable space
—––––––––––––––––––––––––––– Before being eaten.
Some words burn everything in their wake, carrying away what’s left of living energy.
Exaltation / the war of the buttons, beetroots, babies bottles.
The reverse often looks at the right side —––––––––––––––––––––––––––– with the dread of someone
that nothing surprises.
It walks with language, in the wild wind where even pride departs.
I would like to believe it immortal, irreversible. But sometimes a draught is all it takes, hardly
a gust, to make it fall on its back, shell on smooth concrete, paws in the air, helpless.
The reverse has no place. It lives deep in the layers.
[from present, the past / out of use]
—––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– wear always ends up affecting the body.