Transgénicos (aria)

Transgenics (Aria)

This is the time of glow-in-the-dark dogs,
time in which sea monsters
are fiber optic cables,
time in which it’s common to see
a woman crying or vomiting on TV.
No reality is insignificant,
we’ve pressed the pedal of the instant
knocking over fugitive time.
#thethoughtofthelineage
#thatwantsitall
#oftheprimitivetongue
We’re taken by the anxiety for the explosion
we’re a tube of tempera
on the bed in white
just about to swarm the new antiquity,
the polaroid era not of upright man
but of the one who weaves
sustained to his elbows
immediacy and closeness.
I touch the screen/skin
with the tip of the fingers more intelligent
than all the fingertips that came before.
Fingerprints have evolved:
I touch the cold plastic and I feel you,
#Ifeelyou
The conversation hall speaks in composed time:
“You have signed on.”
You are a sustained action.
We are born without chordals or a notion of second place
in a world punctual with the now.
Whoever I might want to be blurs
in the unmasked, the fellow
with you, an ectoplasm, shadow 2.0
I don’t want to contemplate my shoes anymore.
I write to you, I type, I bring you, I need you so much in
the time of glow-in-the-dark dogs,
time in which sea monsters
are fiber optic cables,
time in which it’s common to see
a woman crying or vomiting on TV.
No reality is insignificant,
we’ve pressed the pedal of the instant
holding fugitive time.




{ Natasha Tiniacos, Historia privada de un etcétera, Caracas: La Cámara Escrita, 2011 }