Bosquejo del 31 / Diego Sequera

Sketch of the 31st

Every thing considered a living entity
Living extension outside its shell
Energy administrator
All things that have surpassed
the road beyond their birth
are survivors

The thing of things tends
to follow the metaphorical fruit of what’s been deposited along the way
(In that, while the poem unwinds
with a heavy breeze in the way, all action sounds
from the edge of the doors
Today is the 31st, 12/31/06
script of the dramatized ritual)

The everything buzzes as everything
a not so machine-like state of debacle
(the infuriating confirmation
of the order of things
The confirmation of the closing and essence
an inevitable fall in each one of them)

(creosote bird and drawing of its shadow that caws)

I am every campesino recently executed by the
Extermination Group and National Guard in Chabasquén the

I’m the confused one caught in the crossfire of La
I’m a threatened social comptroller!
I’m an invader with no house or territory
who strikes back against God!

Ferocious brother (with whom I am)
who lives in the middle of the topographical path and resurrection
and for whom these surroundings the efficient dialect
in full systole of fear, in a full
fight against the neutrality of things
Fear is what burns overcome
in the face recovered and your own

It’s in false triumph (and range)
where the essence of opportune disaster resides
It’s the tenacious silence formulated by
the flesh of the other who lives in the bone
of the skin
Flower of its withered nerves!

(Today for 06 closing
a dog crosses the null cup of this poem:
Beloved be the butterfly of your soul
may we be dogs!)

(Now is when the smoke of a fissure passes through the center of the poem)

Praised be those who conquer general hunger
from the depths of their house
made of life more than roof or walls!

Praised be today so 31st on the corner
without charred and excessive genius
Genius of the last nerves while piercing
the last fall in the ascent
on its own stairs!
Praised be then all stairs!

In the end
they’re the fires
of an eternal instant in its repetition

They’re the intimate mausoleums
cynical like a moon
silent like their own transfer
That instantaneous spirit in favor of distances

New is the ground of nostalgias
Native soil ready
Planting of specific faces

20 to go until the change
as I elaborate this sketch
of the next nostalgia
when none of this will persist in its matter
Everything could be banal if I wasn’t
certain the year is dying
and surely this year I remake myself again

(The ink crab
scratches the
bottom of the poem)

Five minutes
Aqua, Hermes, Benito, Yuya, Beto and the people
(each side its own)
Remake the sad path as they pass
in the pressure of the present poem
that crosses the border
without cartridges
or passport.

{ Diego Sequera, Poemas irresponsables, Caracas: Fundación Editorial El perro y la rana, 2011 }

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