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| Sea of Red Death by Tomás Harris translated by Daniel Shapiro January 2004 The first neon lights streaking the dawn green luminous golden ultramarine cross-dressed the ship like a drag queen with too much jewelry and fake gold, the last thing we saw was the stern swaying as it sank from that weight through a red tunnel grotto vulva mine or cave and our senses, all of them, made us guttural, vanquished us, made us drool. What they saw was more or less this, that few survived to tell the tale and fewer stayed sane: we were in Thebes, major capital of a great South American city. Everywhere lost souls suffered. Like a lioness thrown between two worlds, two forbidden dreams lu- bricious and unknown, the Hotel King yawned open its maw of evil love: there were bodies, but they weren’t bodies, all our loves were there, slow- ly naked, like rain: our loves were there, all the loves of a lifetime, but they weren’t there, they were placidly absent, without flesh, bones or red tint on their lips; among these present absences, the deeds got confused in our minds, Admiral, such chasteness, such abolished lust, gives you chancres, dark voids heading toward the end of thought. We were in Thebes: the bodies had no eyes, the bodies were wax, the bodies were multiform, modular, perverse as those dolls of Bellmer, but they were pre-teen, so young I swear they dissolved with the first glance: we were in Rumblefish: the world was a circle in black and white, inhabited by two red fish devouring their reflections instead of prey. I was a fish, Admiral, and Death was another fish. Poiesis of the Better Life by Tomás Harris translated by Daniel Shapiro Deep inside the Yugo Bar the black nocturnal butterflies finally went mad they didn’t harm anyone they clustered in a tribal swarm they were going to hurl themselves against the pipes full of gold dust lighting the halls We’re searching for a better life, they said Aurelia broke away from them adorned herself, unsexed herself, and went away with the black nocturnal butterflies a better life she was shouting after so much cacao rum like always, she turned pale after so much cacao rum in Cipango we bathed our mares in cacao rum all this happened in a dream bordering dawn we were stranded what was in my head? some trivial details a pool of crude oil black plastic bags gold dust all this happened after desire in Cipango deep inside the Yugo Bar the black nocturnal butterflies finally went mad they didn’t want to harm anyone but they dragged many away a better life they were dreaming in a whisper in these Iron Age dawns although we may speak of happiness What will happen after all this? We flowed into a tunnel gilded like a resplendent sewer at the end we saw a bitch who couldn’t stop herself a yellow bitch running her tongue over her wounds fear nested in her animal eyes. Tomás Harris (La Serena, 1956) is considered one of Chile’s most important young poets. He is the author of more than five poetry collections and a book of short stories. He lives and works in Santiago, Chile. These poems appear in the award-winning collection Cipango. Daniel Shapiro, a poet and translator, is Director of Literature at the Americas Society, and Managing Editor of Review: Latin American Literature and Arts. |
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The Rail invites you to a reading with Jason Flores-Williams and Brian Carreira, along with musical guest Steve Strunsky of the Lonesome Prairie Dogs. Thurs., Sept. 22, 8:30 p.m. Vox Pop--Flatbush, Brooklyn www.voxpop.net |
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OFF THE RAIL FALL 2005 at the Central Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library - Grand Army Plaza |
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The Independent Press Association-NY recently honored The Brooklyn Rail with the following awards: |