Searching for the roots of courage
the countenance
moves itself
right
and left.
And on the whirlwind
of the face
a curtain,
beyond,
bulging, and narrow.
A pest
the howl from the nose
that enraged
intends to crush.
A Greek invading
through his eyes far off.
A Greek:
the gossip-mongers smother
the Andalusian hillsides
of his cheekbones
and the trembling valley
of his mouth.
Slashing
from north to south
from east to west.
The head, left to fly,
the lonely mind,
anguish of black ocean
waves ...
And the conch shells of satire
that fall off him
like bell flowers
in the face
of an ancient mask.
Deafening
the deep voice
of wood
huddled
in the nasal catacombs.
Not bound by her,
her sweet arms,
her earthen form.
Compelled only,
before flinging him
into space,
the rainbow of the eyebrows,
making a bridge
across Atlantic,
Pacific.
Where the eyes,
deviating vessels,
circle
without harbours,
without shores.
