Mouths
Joshua Bridgewater Hamilton
I
“mientras todo mi cuerpo va dibujando dunas
y oleajes” (Clara Janés)
‘while my whole body traces dunes
And swells’
which hard connects to this arid
scorched view where even sundials
weep their slow cargo of shadow
& melt angles down for curves.
You can feel in the collective thought
a separation of vectors — corners &
increments to one side, pithy hash
marks on the flank of measurable
morning, spheres & slow stretching
to the other slow wade of salt water
fauna through marsh the day my
body forgets to trace all the bodies
& follows the stem, wake, swell:
if all these weird creatures
think of blue then,
I’m blue?
II
“la red del poema
atrapa el postrer reverbero
del horizonte azul”
‘the poem’s net
traps the last reverberation
of blue horizon’
while the silt of fleshed grievance
sifts into the convex distortion
of evening where live oaks cluster
in their stoic crowds, dendritic fear
of day-end filling the gas tank
& fouling the motor at red
pumping center. Every oak
now hosts its terrible clamberer,
poison in the branches, delphinic knots
unwinding into mouths — pathetic
landscape for the mouthing moment
that surprises the crows, agates by
sunset, last struggling sunlights
slip into sweetest
night.
III
“La superficie inmóvil,
replegada en sí misma,
me apartaba”
‘The still surface
folded back on itself
held me apart’
not only from light-formed meniscus
time leaves as distortion curving the
mind, but tamping the shrill circuits
of starlight switching on in the physical
ether of night where we move like long
lost caves gobbling up a trembling
phosphorescence. Antimatter hides
its hunger for dunas & oleajes, gravity
wells send up tragic mareas, borbotones
de deaths by drowning. There in the
space-less space even el horizonte
azul lamenta su propia falta de brío,
turns perplexed & slips between the
measurable clicks & reverberations —
graznido eléctrico que traspasa
el reconocimiento de luna por
sol, resquicios de otro idioma
en los pliegues táctiles
del libro.