THE GIRLS THAT NO MORE
To the fortyers
The girls that I can’t love anymore
Carry swarms of unsettled fishes in their backpacks,
Dye their hair the color of leaves
from plum trees,
Lay almond necklaces on their shirts,
Deflower their ears
With mushrooms and seashells.
The girls that don’t look at me anymore
Fly with baptism silk winds,
Take what they want form window-shops
Arising in an infinite fly,
Wear alighted garlands on their forehead,
And a music box as a dress.
The girls that don’t love me anymore
Say to me, “Excuse me, Sir?”
They look so elemental, so Snow White,
That ask to get naked with the light on
And bite apples bit by bit.
The girls that nothing happens anymore
Carry small honey combs in their bras
And pour their first scarlet honey,
On the throne of a cursed prince.
The girls that I said with me no more,
Bring between their legs
Pearls and small animals.
They say yes so many times
That even the crickets fall in love with them
And toss through the windows
Their crystalline nudes.
The girls that I can’t even look at anymore,
Take out their heart to exhibit it,
They have mother o pearl teeth in their smiles,
Feet of albino butterflies,
And quince and sugar mouths.
The girls that I can’t love anymore, neither love me,
That don’t look at me, neither do I,
The girls that nothing more,
That not with me,
Deliver the white death in their caresses
And I bring my cheek close to them
As a suicide fate
YOU LEFT YOU LOST
In some way you have gone,
With the blue parable in your pocket
And some coded notch
In the heel of your left shoe
There is no news about your absence
I just got an ethyl passion
I don’t know if its really yours.
To be more specific
Yesterday at your bed side
19 flies were sleeping
in their six durax set glasses
the ones with the spirit bottom,
those that are really life-proof.
Never was the emptiness, nothing has changed.
The note that you left
Said that you will come back for some things
It is useless and vain
I used your clothes to dry the bathroom floor
The day that it flooded
And they had such odors of humidity
That I felt sick and burned it out.
I exchange the books that you pretended to read
While I watched the goals
For the Last Eternautic
At the corner bookstore
That is now changing businesses.
Then, your photo album
I have it with me
I watch it every day
While I have milk and coffee with cold pizza
It recalls deep memories
The times when I was looking for a job in the papers
While you were hitting the floor hysterically
With the heel of your left shoe.
UNFAITHFULNESS
The night isn’t light yet, it is shaking,
a candle weeps
dying tears of wax,
swaying curtains in the dark,
the wind has entered barefoot
surely they are dancing.
A wandering star tears the Moon in two halves
and you have taken a piece in each hand.
After an accurate and even number
of frozen jingle bells,
we ate sweetly
in the name of love,
each one their own piece.
And amongst all these means
in which we chose to alter
time and space
I can’t understand why this night
of wine and of Cortazar,
of wild wind, of piano,
without understanding we broke apart.
The dark night trembles
and I’m crying you from other arms.
NAINILEVEN
For Craig Czury
She enjoys her body in his gaze.
He looks at her through his hands
and dresses her with his eyes.
Somebody spies on them through binoculars
from a tower about to explode,
he always spies.
The pilot sees a mirror approaching
the image of the sun, his own image,
a man who spies
through binoculars from behind a window.
Another man up in the air lets go of the pilot
makes a religious gesture in sign of victory
and grimaces in a way we can t understand.
A Japanese woman looks at the sky through her sony camera
a boy is pulling from her skirt
and she moves her lens towards a plane that is still flying.
A Mexicano offers the boy a lollypop,
with his other hand he plays an harmonica in D
a tune he will play again two years later,
in an act of pain and poems
for his daughter who was cleaning bathrooms.
A dog to whom a monument will be erected
pisses on the helmet of a fireman
who will not live to celebrate his next anniversary
and kicks the mutt with his rubber boot.
His wife who does not love him any longer
waved him an I-wish-you-were-dead goodbye
when he left the apartment in the morning.
We, who stayed at home
drinking our embraces,
were watching TV in bed
when the phone rings
and we don’t answer, we can t get up
For a long time
we wont know what to do
or what to say to each other.
MERCY
Where are you going ?
Where do you take me?
With your ships of smoke
And your mellifluous household good of time
Don’t add up more crumbs
To my sunken spirit
Anybody can see the
depths inside me
The foolish fencing of these verbs
The avatars the silence caused me
It is not redundant that I make the sign of the cross
By this I break your way to retain me
The routinary magic spell of so much failure to meet
In the soft cadence of your temples
That persuade slowly towards forgetfulness
Adagio in the sun
Give me a sign this time
Tell me if in the compass case of your miracles
a harbor with my name written on it exists.
DELIVERY
Babe , have you realized that I would be capable of eating glass for you?
Rodolfo Edwards
The bell sounds twice on the fourth
…Silence
Later another two on the third
You get up naked and walk the carpet
with your trail of adagios
-come up if you please.. Is it open?-
You slightly dress,
find a comforting smile,
two coins and open
-rolled spring, sweet-and-sour sauce,
ah... the chaw fan with shrimps
comes with a poet as a gift
You wanna it -
I do not know and... what does he eat ?
nothing ma´am, just water all day long
He writes cries and doesn’t stop gazing at you, ever-
That’s enough for him
Right, leave him to me, but what’s up if I wanna him no more
I don’t know, see you.
That’s the way I came back to you,
like a miracle
for four days and its nights I dedicated you
my best poems, my most delicate tears, my glance
On Friday you rented Armageddon
Asked for a chicken with almonds and fried hog for two and with your best smile
you begged the Chinese in English to carry me.
In a corner of Bulnes street
He stopped the bicycle by a post
He arranged me for the carton men
And he left me, If he returned with another poet for sure he would be fired
Now I travel on the white train, towards José Leon Suárez among black crushed tins of beer
Here there are so many of us the sad my love..
That the misery of my heart
Feels at last
In company.
You, You ain´t from MLS
You say the Pope said
I live in Deadly Sin
And you spit the stew to me
I make hollow the hand, I look at the dry wounds
I drink red wine
I am in silence, I wait
that Pope is a jerkoff, I think;
then,
my 10-year-old daughter comes and asks
if she can tell her friend her father is good
if it is bad not to have a job
if the poor go to heaven
I look up the wet spots on the ceiling
I close the fist, I hug her, I wait
"I hope she says I am good”
And now everything is getting worse since we had a phone We were told about your mom’s death
They phoned us because we owe the mortgage,
your bosses not to go on Fridays any more
someone who hangs up without speaking
to be wrong, I hope.
No longer do we have cable,
no longer do they transmit the match lively,
no longer is blue and gold the Boca’s jersey
no longer you must put your guts in the game
no longer do we go to the movies,
no longer do I expect you longer you said,
no longer do I expect you.
Vulnerable, suspendibles, dispensable, unemployed, deshauciables,
tomorrow in the coffee shop I am going to ask the guys
perhaps this time, we at least
do something
No longer can I stand waiting.
CUT IT OUT , CHE
to Tania
The world was and will be a rubbish.com
Both in 76 and also in 3000
Between the television and the newspaper you are fed with
advertising
we give you the smallest rate of the market for your
milk and coffee
and the lowest price for your soul
or we refund you the difference
now, the incoming bullets are also paid by you
the only privileged are ¡their! children
drink cocacola, live Cocacola, think cocacola
get coked,
castro and clinton eat the last black corvina ,
in the bipartite meeting in Wall Street, cooked by
francis malman
which means bad man
This time, Germany, does not have who declare
the 3rd war to
the Diego is living in Cuba and governs it
and what is going along , ché ,nobody talks about AIDs
on Friday you chat with the queen of Ireland
on Saturday you have cybersex with Venus de Milo
and on Sunday you masturbate .com , beat it !!
that you are offered a master in thick
brush
a vip train to look at the countries from a distance
and paraná undertake´s.com because of your mother-in-law you know
Yesterday I won a scholarship to cry quietly
There are much more of us , but on the
want ad row
when you buy a 4x4 2000 we give 3 coats to a little school
in Salta
Now you get 10,000 extra miles
if you donate 5 liters of blood
or you deliver us your liver...
the people are hungry.com
and you do know nothing about the new profits tax
what for, with your rough income,
nor do you how much they are going to ask for Riquelme tomorrow
neither do they how much you wanted to see him on Sundays
but of course, now you have to declare
your annual desires
and I would like to hold you.com
you don´t mind if Julio Boca dances tango well
you miss Olmedo, Monzón, Ringo and
Discepolo
and now they want to charge a memory toll
What is granddad going to be
Century XXI cut it out , che !
there in the oven we are go´ to meet
and there surely there,
we are going to see our faces
Esteban Charpentier, born in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1958.
Lives in Buenos Aires.
Books:
Taller de Memorias
La otra luna
El jinete de tu galope de risas
Queridos poetas. Homenaje a los poetas de España
Final Poético
Me lo pedía el corazón
Me Alejo Charpentier
Magazines:
Tramas Literarias
El Aullido
Radio:
La Yilé en el tobogán
El Aullido
Nunca Digas Nunca
Poetic Show:
Maldita Ginebra with the poet HÉCTOR URRUSPURU
charpentier_e@yahoo.com.ar