Capsules
The world asks you what you think and you
You rack your brains alone
Like the bunch of neurons that weave around the days in vain.
You ask yourself why the World asks
And you think that, really, it must be in that
and you
would respond:
I think about ships
about planes
about minds
in nothing
in flowers
that
open
close
But he asks WHAT.
You want to respond where your thoughts lead you.
In moments like this:
turgid
rabid
mesmerizing
hypnotic
electric.
They are moments that tense and arch the loin like a cat with large eyes
and green
and distant
that go beyond consciousness.
They are moments with the eyes of an affectionate dog: wet, round, luminous.
Waiting.
They are capsules of time.
In reality
it doesn’t matter what you may think:
the important thing is where and to where your ideas travel.
The content changes with time.
What really matters is where you put all that mass of nerves
–I mean… the ideas-
that strive to live in some place.
While in the outside world
-the small one that nourishes you-
you swim through the hours and learn new styles
because the important thing is to survive
the beast within
who's claws keep vigil
wait for you
and scratch you
and tear you up
if by chance it occurs to you
to stop and think
what you think.
Originally published in Spanish by Rosario Curiel at 23:39, 25 May 2017
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