Phantom Bodies In Time... 

Deep in the mines where the magical art of a single, irrevocable and ghostly caress establishes the earth in the wind's bright and poetic force like teeth against bone... a swift and swirling chemistry mirrored by the body's other, the body of ether that passes through you with little more than a breath, to stain the sumptuous wall of your absence.

*

The containers for the daughters of the assassins filled with starlight and murmurs, have lead you to the ever-widening spirit of transparency, where the leopard's breath and the flower of light are dripping in architectural intersections, and resemble each other... They spill the same fluids and pebbles of an eagerly disruptive anarchy. Time dispatches paradoxical inklings that blacken your fingernails, and decode your predecessors into the harmonious dust of a life that is breathed in and ignited by the wind powered with emeralds.

*

In the passageway between light and dark, where you align yourself in molecular fashion against her linen seductively smoldering in the grass, where the dew-igniting armatures, with their Quetzal tails, dazzle the voyeurs in their dream kingdoms, fermenting beneath the shimmering tables of feral potions and elixirs... where knives are kissing. Only her shadow remains in the wetness of noon, strung between the magnetic poles of disorientation and sheer bliss... It is all dressed in one fell swoop. Spectacles are discarded. The owl's coat covers your escape.

*

A fire in the city diverts the passage of stars. Bathing is the only solution to increasing the sense of light. Reality is the faded area of reconnaissance, in that moment where the silk merchants offer their bodies out of darkness, out of the lost incantations and alchemical symbols, when fire was shaped by internal obsessions, and two-headed eggs that chase the two-headed King through the labyrinth of complicity.

*

You release your name from the sound of it. You pass unnoticed between the ordinary schemes, and dance in the silence of faded photographs, becoming a blur of decisive and imperative maneuvers... having passed through, while still arriving, unnoticed––a wizard of magnificent intimation, and a forger of hallucinations, brilliant thefts and jutting planes of razor-sharp innocence...