Poem
Rocio Ceron
Five movements from a mid-air gesture
12:56Course of time foreshadowed over folds of age: life, the settled, the unsettled (a history already foreshadowed by contraction, a reality that shall become fiction: fiction folded to the skin / on your own). There, on the thigh, that knot where a constellation is held, a universe over which all garments of the epidermis are gathered.
Molar, a symphony of moles on the left arm.
Score of signs where faith flickers. A gesture, a brush where bodies shelter one another.
Cantata.
13:07
Silhouette of the spine, flame of shadows where a caress is kept. A frame that remembers, in every finger (senses of the other in a foreign body) the silhouette relates its own curvature. To pronounce through proximity the nomenclature of desire. Songs, murmurs, pathways established among cracks on the backs of knees. Slots of time, gestural inclination where death is hastened. Hollows, muscles, fat in craters between bones and rib of blood that will not speak: ethereal syllables –I whisper–: the sound / twist / of every fold.
13:28
The circular nature of a thought. What the body hauls in its veins (metaphor). The liquidness of inner bays and channels. Does it hide between the backs of knees? Gaze lost precisely on the horizon: lichen. Fragility of the coastline within a blind spot. Short-cut or breeze that covers the flight of certain words. Hand that crosses, brushes against the face, pointing toward the place where there are murmurs, only murmurs. The exactitude of an inner babbling where the true manner of paternal voices accrues behind the left ear. The paleness of Eleonora’s hand tracing the contours of an imaginary elephant. And that smile, that half-smile at the corner of his mouth.
13:40
The furrow where the thistles have left marks is blurred. Overflow. Shoal of fish that wriggles between legs. Blood boiling across ramifications. Abrasive. March over the thigh that spreads. Every centimeter, a beginning. All division, imprecise. Overflow. The leaves of trees fall onto her shoulders. And then the world fell silent.
13:53
Anomaly of the pose, body weights positioned with regard to vulnerability. Each wound overcomes and extends an aura. Counterweights. The sensitive nature of the navel, memory of the belly, moisture of the word mother. Weights that restitute the failure of the mind. In silence, folds, fissures, stays are positioned. Overflow.
Granite and tobacco overcome. Landscape. Hands knot a sonata in mid-air –when the voyage intuits the horizon, time gravitates over the eye. Lichen. Underbrush, a desert where lips are cracked from never saying your name.
© Translation: 2019, Tanya Huntington, Rocio Ceron
Cinco movimientos en un gesto de aire
Cinco movimientos en un gesto de aire
12:56Sobre pliegues la edad, curso de tiempo que anticipa: la vida, lo que se estabiliza, lo que se desestabiliza (en la contracción ya se anuncia una historia, realidad que será ficción: ficción plegada a piel/ a pulso). El lugar del muslo, un nudo donde se guarda una constelación, universo donde se cierne toda la vestidura de la epidermis.
Lunar, sinfonía de lunares en brazo izquierdo.
Partitura de signos donde se craquela la fe. Gesto y roce donde los cuerpos se amparan mutuamente.
Cantata.
13:07
El contorno de la espalda, la llama de las sombras donde se guarda una caricia. Cuerpo con memoria, con cada dedo (sentidos del otro en cuerpo ajeno) el contorno relata la curvatura propia. Enunciar desde la proximidad la nomenclatura del deseo. Canciones, murmullos, los senderos que se establecen entre las grietas de las corvas. Hendiduras de tiempo, inclinación gestual donde se precipita la muerte. Huecos, musculatura, grasa en cráteres entre los huesos y la nervadura sanguínea que se niega a hablar: sílabas etéreas —susurro—: el sonido /torcedura/ de cada pliegue.
13:28
La circularidad de un pensamiento. Lo que el cuerpo acarrea en las venas (metáfora). Lo líquido de las bahías y cauces interiores. ¿Se esconde entre las corvas? Mirada perdida en horizonte exacto: liquen. Fragilidad de la costa en punto ciego. Atajo o viento que cubre el vuelo de cierta palabra. La mano cruza, toca el rostro apenas, apuntando hacia el sitio donde hay murmullos, sólo murmullos. La exactitud de un balbuceo interior donde la manera verdadera de las voces del padre se acumulan detrás del oído izquierdo. La blancura de la mano de Eleonora, que recorre los contornos de un elefante imaginario. Y esa sonrisa, esa media sonrisa de la comisura de su boca.
13:40
Se confunde el surco donde los cardos han dejado marcas. Rebalse. Cardumen de peces agitándose entre piernas. Ebullición de sangre en ramificaciones. Abrasiva. La marcha sobre el muslo se expande. Cada centímetro es inicio. Toda división, inexacta. Rebalse. Las hojas de los árboles caían encima de sus hombros. Entonces callaba el mundo.
13:53
La irregularidad de la postura, los pesos del cuerpo se acomodan dependiendo de la vulnerabilidad. Cada herida sobrepasa y extiende un aura. Contrapesos. La sensibilidad del ombligo; el recuerdo del vientre, la acuosidad de la palabra madre. Los pesos restituyen el fracaso de la mente. En silencio se acomodan pliegues, hendiduras, estancias. Rebalse.
Granito y tabaco sobresalen. Paisaje. Manos anudan en el aire una sonata —cuando el viaje instituye el horizonte, el tiempo gravita sobre el ojo. Liquen. Mata de arbustos, desierto donde se agrietan los labios por no decir tu nombre.
© 2015, Rocio Ceron
From: Nudo vortex
Publisher: Literal Ediciones, Mexico, DF
From: Nudo vortex
Publisher: Literal Ediciones, Mexico, DF
Poems
Poems of Rocio Ceron
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Five movements from a mid-air gesture
12:56Course of time foreshadowed over folds of age: life, the settled, the unsettled (a history already foreshadowed by contraction, a reality that shall become fiction: fiction folded to the skin / on your own). There, on the thigh, that knot where a constellation is held, a universe over which all garments of the epidermis are gathered.
Molar, a symphony of moles on the left arm.
Score of signs where faith flickers. A gesture, a brush where bodies shelter one another.
Cantata.
13:07
Silhouette of the spine, flame of shadows where a caress is kept. A frame that remembers, in every finger (senses of the other in a foreign body) the silhouette relates its own curvature. To pronounce through proximity the nomenclature of desire. Songs, murmurs, pathways established among cracks on the backs of knees. Slots of time, gestural inclination where death is hastened. Hollows, muscles, fat in craters between bones and rib of blood that will not speak: ethereal syllables –I whisper–: the sound / twist / of every fold.
13:28
The circular nature of a thought. What the body hauls in its veins (metaphor). The liquidness of inner bays and channels. Does it hide between the backs of knees? Gaze lost precisely on the horizon: lichen. Fragility of the coastline within a blind spot. Short-cut or breeze that covers the flight of certain words. Hand that crosses, brushes against the face, pointing toward the place where there are murmurs, only murmurs. The exactitude of an inner babbling where the true manner of paternal voices accrues behind the left ear. The paleness of Eleonora’s hand tracing the contours of an imaginary elephant. And that smile, that half-smile at the corner of his mouth.
13:40
The furrow where the thistles have left marks is blurred. Overflow. Shoal of fish that wriggles between legs. Blood boiling across ramifications. Abrasive. March over the thigh that spreads. Every centimeter, a beginning. All division, imprecise. Overflow. The leaves of trees fall onto her shoulders. And then the world fell silent.
13:53
Anomaly of the pose, body weights positioned with regard to vulnerability. Each wound overcomes and extends an aura. Counterweights. The sensitive nature of the navel, memory of the belly, moisture of the word mother. Weights that restitute the failure of the mind. In silence, folds, fissures, stays are positioned. Overflow.
Granite and tobacco overcome. Landscape. Hands knot a sonata in mid-air –when the voyage intuits the horizon, time gravitates over the eye. Lichen. Underbrush, a desert where lips are cracked from never saying your name.
© 2019, Tanya Huntington, Rocio Ceron
From: Nudo vortex
From: Nudo vortex
Five movements from a mid-air gesture
12:56Course of time foreshadowed over folds of age: life, the settled, the unsettled (a history already foreshadowed by contraction, a reality that shall become fiction: fiction folded to the skin / on your own). There, on the thigh, that knot where a constellation is held, a universe over which all garments of the epidermis are gathered.
Molar, a symphony of moles on the left arm.
Score of signs where faith flickers. A gesture, a brush where bodies shelter one another.
Cantata.
13:07
Silhouette of the spine, flame of shadows where a caress is kept. A frame that remembers, in every finger (senses of the other in a foreign body) the silhouette relates its own curvature. To pronounce through proximity the nomenclature of desire. Songs, murmurs, pathways established among cracks on the backs of knees. Slots of time, gestural inclination where death is hastened. Hollows, muscles, fat in craters between bones and rib of blood that will not speak: ethereal syllables –I whisper–: the sound / twist / of every fold.
13:28
The circular nature of a thought. What the body hauls in its veins (metaphor). The liquidness of inner bays and channels. Does it hide between the backs of knees? Gaze lost precisely on the horizon: lichen. Fragility of the coastline within a blind spot. Short-cut or breeze that covers the flight of certain words. Hand that crosses, brushes against the face, pointing toward the place where there are murmurs, only murmurs. The exactitude of an inner babbling where the true manner of paternal voices accrues behind the left ear. The paleness of Eleonora’s hand tracing the contours of an imaginary elephant. And that smile, that half-smile at the corner of his mouth.
13:40
The furrow where the thistles have left marks is blurred. Overflow. Shoal of fish that wriggles between legs. Blood boiling across ramifications. Abrasive. March over the thigh that spreads. Every centimeter, a beginning. All division, imprecise. Overflow. The leaves of trees fall onto her shoulders. And then the world fell silent.
13:53
Anomaly of the pose, body weights positioned with regard to vulnerability. Each wound overcomes and extends an aura. Counterweights. The sensitive nature of the navel, memory of the belly, moisture of the word mother. Weights that restitute the failure of the mind. In silence, folds, fissures, stays are positioned. Overflow.
Granite and tobacco overcome. Landscape. Hands knot a sonata in mid-air –when the voyage intuits the horizon, time gravitates over the eye. Lichen. Underbrush, a desert where lips are cracked from never saying your name.
© 2019, Tanya Huntington, Rocio Ceron
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