Foreword by
John D. Caputo
Theological Poetry
Eroga Tau. The accused poet opens his wings
Haikus to Heaven Pauper God. Theographies
Luis Cruz-Villalobos
HEBEL
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Foreword by
John D. Caputo
HEBEL Ediciones Arte-Santa | Poesa
Theological Poetry
Eroga Tau. The accused poet opens his wings
Haikus to Heaven Pauper God. Theographies
Luis Cruz-Villalobos
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Eroga Tau. The accused poet opens his wings. Original Title: Eroga Tau. Escampe del poeta maldito. Luis Cruz-Villalobos, 1997. Intellectual Property Registration N 198.440. Santiago de Chile, 2010. Translated to English: Magdalena Mohr & Nancy Thomas, 2011. Haikus to Heaven. Original Title: Haikus al Cielo. Luis Cruz-Villalobos, 2012. Poems pertaining to the work: Poesa Toda 1991-2011. Luis Cruz-Villalobos, 2012. Intellectual Property Registration N 213.820 Translated to English: Ryan Flanders, 2013. Pauper God. Theographies. Original Title: Dios Mendigo. Teografas. Luis Cruz-Villalobos, 2012. Poems pertaining to the work: Poesa Toda 1991-2011. Luis Cruz-Villalobos, 2012. Intellectual Property Registration N 213.820. Santiago de Chile. Translation to English: Efran Quilen & Ryan Flanders, 2013. Foreword by: John D. Caputo Photograph of front and back: Gonzalo F. Fandez. HEBEL Ediciones Coleccin Arte-Sana|Poesa Santiago de Chile, 2014. www.benditapoesia.webs.com Qu es HEBEL. Es un sello editorial sin fines de lucro. Trmino hebreo que denota lo efmero, lo vano, lo pasajero, soplo leve que parte veloz. As, este sello quiere ser un gesto de frgil permanencia de las palabras, en ediciones siempre preliminares, que se lanzan por el espacio y tiempo para hacer bien o simplemente para inquietar la vida, que siempre est en permanente devenir, en especial la de este "humus que mira el cielo".
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To Trino
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FOREWORD Theology, Poetryand Theopoetics
John D. Caputo
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It is my pleasure to offer a word in advance to
Luis Cruz-Villalobos Theological Poetry. The link between theology and poetry runs
deep, both historically and conceptually. The Jewish
and Christian Scriptures belong to world literature,
which means that like all literature these texts give
words to the deep structures of human experience. In
the case of the Scriptures this means the experience of
God, of Gods in-breaking, interruptive, even traumatic
intervention in our lives. The word of God is the word
of the other-in-us, the words that rise up in us in
response to something that addresses us, something
that has transformed our lives, something that takes
place in and under the name (of) God. The word of
God means the words we give to God so that God
may speak to us. As such, the Scriptures are a logos, a
saying and speaking of God, and so they are
irreducibly theo-logical.
In saying this, of course, I do not have in mind
the scholarly studies, the abstract arguments, and the
technical discourse of academic theology, which is
an artifact of the university. I mean instead a more
elementary logos and pre-conceptual theology, let us say a discourse nourished by a pre-logical logos. I mean an archi-theological discourse that is deeply
embedded in a complex of narratives and hymns, of
prayers and parables, of songs and poems, of epistles,
homilies and injunctions, in which different communities
give different expressions to different experiences of
God. The Scriptures gives words to what God calls, to
what God calls for, and to what we call in calling upon
God. They give word, in short, to a more primordial
logos, to a pre-logical logic, or paralogic, of the call
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of what is calling, what is being called, and what is
being called forin the name (of) God. This is the
stuff a more nascent and inchoate theology, where the
name of God is not the name of a supreme entity but
the name of a call, and the people of God are the
people of the call.
The Scriptures, thus, are not theological in the
strong sense of the logos that is part of its etymological root. The word theology is after all a pagan word
nowhere to be found in the Scripturesthat goes back
to Aristotle, where it represents the highest form of
episteme (scientia), meaning a disciplined, rationalized discourse in which everything is organized in such a
way as to support its claims. That is why I distinguish
between a strong theology and a weak one. In this
way I mean to distinguish between a discursive form
that takes place in the active modality of claiming, of making claims, and a discourse that holds itself in
reserve, that takes place in the receptive mode of
being-claimed, of being-laid-claim-to, and hence of
speaking in the mode of responding to a prior address
by which it is always already overtaken. Theology in the
strong sense is characterized by a classical Greco-
philosophical discursive mode, by a system of
propositional claims that are implicated in the historical
development of the Greek concept of logos, something that is singled out in the contemporary
discussion of the onto-theological. The logos of strong theology refers to predicative claims, saying something
about God, approaching God as a constituted object of discourse, as the subject of a set of predicates, as
the bearer of certain conceptual properties, which are
expressible in propositions purporting to determine
certain divine attributes. These propositions are folded
together into strings of propositions, into proofs or
arguments, which make up a body of knowledge, a
complex of true assertions concerning the existence
and nature of God.
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Strong theology is about entities, propositions
and proofs. It first emerged in Christian antiquity when
the early Christian movement, in search of self-
understanding and in contact with Greek philosophy,
was caught up in a series of Christological
controversies that were eventually given canonical
formulations in the early councils and their creeds. To
be sure, theology at that point had not acquired the
trappings of late scholastic or modernist discourse, the
technical terminology, the formality of argumentation,
the systems and protocols of the university; it still
conceived itself as sapientia, a wisdom for life, not scientia, and it did not think itself possible outside of Christian community and practice. But even then, the
essential thing was there from the startthe war over
propositions that is witnessed by the simultaneous birth
of heresiology, the outburst of polemics against the so-
called dissidents, the aggressive combat over the
correct claim, the right belief (orthe + doxa) uncontaminated by those who choose (haeresis) their own way, who willfully separate themselves from
the orthodox. Where there is (strong) theology, there is
heresiology. The birth of theology was the birth of twins.
From its earliest beginnings, theology, strong theology, is
preoccupied with the separation of true and false
propositions, true and false claims. It eventually
acquired the form of a university or scholastic
discourse, first, in the quaestio disputata of the high middle ages and then in the modern university where it
is at least as technical a discourse as the other
humanities or social sciences and, like them, has to
struggle for respectability in the face of the
mathematical sciences.
By weak theology I do not mean something
debilitated, ineffective, and anemic but a theology
that abandons the mode of claiming and gives itself
over to a prior being-claimed. Weak theology does not
pretend to the exact determination of a well-formed
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proposition; it is not about proposing propositions but
about being exposed to something prepropositional.
Nonetheless, weak theology has a rigor of its own,
practicing a deeper discipline that is not to be
confused with conceptual or mathematical precision.
By rigor I meanand here I am following the lead of
Heideggeradhering strictly to the demands of the
matter to be thought and spoken, adhering not to an
object constituted by a proposition, but to the things
themselves, die Sache selbst, the matters of deepest concern, which cannot be reduced to the precision of
propositions or to the exactness of mathematics. It is a
false rigor to demand that everything be exact, that
everything be determined by propositions, that
everything submit to the requirements of objectifying
thinking, or that everything be formulated in
mathematical terms. That would be like demanding
that impressionist painters draw clearer lines. There is
nothing rigorous about treating non-objectifiable
matters in objectifying terms. To be sure,
thematicization, mathematicization and objectification
have their place, but there are other matters in which
these methods are too strong, too ham-fisted, too
heavy-handed. They are too gross and rough-hewn a
way to approach the matters to be thought in our
primordial preconceptual contact with the world, a
world that comes to words in the Scriptures and in the
forms of life and modes of being-in-the-world which the
Scriptures call the kingdom of God.
That is why the Scriptures themselves
systematically eschew the discourse of objectification
and conceptualization. Even when they use numbers
they do not mean anything numerical. When the
disciples ask Jesus how many times they must forgive
and Jesus responds seventy time times seven, Jesus is
not calculating (Matt 18:22). He does not mean four
hundred and ninety; he means endlessly, that there is
no limit to the demand we are under to forgive. The
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Scriptures do not speak about the kingdom of God as an external object of discourse; they speak from out of the experience of the kingdom, which is not without
but within. They speak in the non-objectifiable terms of
the parable and paradox in order to draw us in to the
form of life for which they call. There is no better
example of this weak modality than the preaching of
Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels. Jesus does not talk about
himself but about his father; and he does not talk about
his father but about his fathers kingdom; and he
does not talk about his fathers kingdom but about
mustard seeds, leavened bread, buried treasures, little
children, and banquets at which the invited guests do
not show up. He speaks in parables and paradox, not in
a logical but a para-logical mode, which is the mode
that most rigorously adheres to the dynamics of the
kingdom, to its shocking reversals and unexpected
demands.
Jesus is the poet par excellence of the kingdom,
of Gods coming rule.
The rigor proper to this discourse is to maintain
itself in a mode that is indirect, discreet, and oblique,
evocative and provocative, analogical and
paralogical, parabolical and hyperbolical, metaphoric
and metonymic, a modality that is proper to the call by
which we are addressed, to the event by which we are
overtaken. Its rigor is not to propose but to sustain an
exposure to the inbreaking of something, I know not
what, something that lays hold of us before we can
grasp it, that claims us before we can make claims
about it. The discipline of this discourse is to maintain
itself in an elemental contact with the world, to sustain
itself in a non-coercive modality that allows the world
to come to words. Its weakness requires the supreme
effort of restraint and reserve, to be of a more pliant
and supple nature, cut to fit the contours of the matter
of concern, able to hold itself in a non-dogmatic,
open-ended, reformable, pliable, refoldable modality.
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The strength of this weakness is to resolutely resist every
attempt to give its experience of the world canonical,
creedal, definitive, fixed, formulaic expression. Its rigor is
to stay in play with the call that is at play in what
addresses us and overtakes us, in which the logical is
attenuated into the paralogical, in whichand here I
come to the pointthe logical in the theo-logical is
displaced by the poetic. By the poetic I do not mean only verse and poetry in the narrower sense, precious
as these may be. I mean a primal poiesis, the formative discourse that assists at the birth of the event of the call
like a midwife. I mean an elemental giving-form that
takes place in and as the callthe call of the event,
the event of the callthat takes the shape of words.
In short, by a weak theology, I mean less a theo-
logic than a theo-poetics, a theology in which the -
logic has been displaced by a poetics, and by a
poetics I mean a constellation of non-discursive,
metaphoric and metonymic resources aimed at
evoking the provocation of the kingdom of God, at
allowing the call that is taking place in the name of
God to come to words. The poetic is not an ornament
or decoration draped over a pre-constituted object.
The poetic is the very birth of God, the natal event in
which the name (of) God comes to words, the heart
of a more primordial logos now transformed from claiming into being-claimed.
The rigor of weak theology is to maintain itself
strictly in the element of a theopoetics. Poetry is the
rigor of weak theology, its discipline, its asceticism, its
strictest hewing of the word to the matter to be
thought. Seen thus, the permanent, structural
temptation of strong theology is to succumb to the lure
of objectifying thinking, to become the prize sought by
the orthodox, to contract itself into a creedal formula
that separates the upright from the divergent. Strong
theology is too much tempted to police the subject
matter of theology, to subject it to the rule of
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propositions and proofs; it is too much given to
persuade and dissuade and hence to suppress
dissidence and difference, as if those who decline to
be part of the rule of logos are willful, as if they
choose (haeresis) to differas opposed to having been chosen by difference, singled out and held in
exposure to the coming of what it cannot see coming!
The task of weak theology is to sustain the
exposure of theology to the primal event by which it is
called into words in the first place. So when Luis Cruz-
Villalobos entitles his book Theological Poetry, when he sets about to bring the theological matter to poetic
word, he is not engaged in a work of ornamentation.
He has struck the deepest root and touched the most
ancient nerve of theology, which is that theology is
poetry before it is doctrine; that is world-creation
before it is creed; that it is poiesis before it is hardened over into a logic; that it breathes the words of life and
death, of suffering and joy, before it allows its words to
succumb to the formularies of orthodoxy and its
canons. Theology is song before it is the stuff of a
summa or of the councils. That is why the New Testament describes itself not as istoria, a sober historical record of the past, an accurate
representation of the facts of the matter, but as
euvangelion, a glad message, good news proclaimed to the poor and the imprisoned, a proclamation of the
year of the jubilee. A gospel is not a predicative
discourse but a promissory one. The year of the jubilee
is the fiftieth year, the year that follows seven times
seven, where everything is forgiven and we start out all
over again. Fifty is not a number to be counted, a
calendar date to be calculated, but a hope, a prayer,
a dream, a messianic expectation, a marker of what is
to-come, a symbol of a promise, and the Scriptures are
its song.
The figure of Jesus in the New Testament is the
figure of the archi-poet of the kingdom of God, a teller
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of parables about mustard seeds and buried treasures
and prodigal sons, all bent on imagining the future of
the coming of the kingdom, of the way it will be when
God rules, not human greed and violence. Jesus is a
poet who poetizes the Kingdom, who imagines what it
would be like to live otherwise, in a time in which the
grip of the world as we know it is broken. Jesus imagines
the world differently, divinely, when retribution is
displaced by forgiveness, violence and oppression by
mercy to the least among us, and war is upended by
weak force of peace.
In theopoetics, the name of this book, the very
idea of theological poetry, is a magnificent
tautology, a saying of the same in which something
othertout autresomething startling, something
inbreaking, breaks in upon the business as usual of the
world and calls upon theology to recall its ancient task
of imagining the world otherwise.
John D. Caputo Thomas J. Watson Professor of Religion Emeritus
Syracuse University
David R. Cook Professor Emeritus of Philosophy
Villanova University
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INDEX
Eroga Tau. The accused poet opens his wings | 19 Haikus to Heaven | 67 Pauper God. Theographies | 159
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Eroga Tau The accused poet opens his wings
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Dedicated to Pablo, Yamsan,
Andrs, Hugo, Rafael, And in memory of Nietzsche,
Baudelaire, Tagore, and David.
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I. THE ACCURSED POET
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I
Eroga
Eroga Tau
Accursed poet
Dark
Abysmal
Full of bitter tastes
Dark poetry
filling your eyes
II
Eroga Tau
You walked
by ways hidden beneath the earth
hovered intoxicated in far corners
And there they saw you
alone
as no one has ever been
Clenching your fists
and stroking your face
before a broken mirror
III
Eroga Tau
Old yet young
No one knew your real age
A strange breeze flowed through you
A flutter that hid your years
Old in experience
Young in desire
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IV
Eroga
Eroga Tau
Accursed poet
Nocturnal seeker of the dawn
Drowsy demoniac
Possessed by human passions
V
I saw you hidden in your silence
spinning in the cyclone of your soul
Your peace had ended
Your little man-light
had ceased to shine
No longer a child
You became a poet under a curse
and cursed poets
although possessing the eyes
and the hands of a child
Are no more
or less
than ancient trees
And you were a tree
an old acacia
full of dry seeds
your trunk scarred
by autumn
You became autumn
Autumn
When the rain baptized you
and gave you your rainy name
mournful and wet like your heart
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VI
On a day like any other
I saw you writing with a black pen
writing black poems
choosing each word
from the deep dark places
of your past
VII
Eroga Tau
Where were you
Where was your deep laughter
You were searching
Searching and cursing
wallowing in your mire
in your own
hazy words
You wanted to find
but you cursed the wind
and you cursed your night
night without moon
Only the stars
silent before your cries
You cursed your soul and the heaven
you thought
had no name for you.
The heaven you believed
would not hear your cry
Oh cruel lament!
And you cursed again
and you sought
and sought once more
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You called out
but no one opened
that door
with its precise address
VIII
Eroga Tau
your memories
Your robust small yesterday
was hard and perhaps abrupt
But from that you drew out the raw material
your present-past
to form the life
that still could open no windows
IX
Eroga
who understands
why you kept spinning in your stupor
why you wept so deeply
X
Eroga Tau
Poet under a curse
From your hands fell
withered flowers
Light traveled
A red fire that flowed
mysteriously flowed
sprung up from your own waste
fatuous and proud
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Your poems were proud fires
that feasted
on your own death
On the corruption
you carried within
XI
Eroga Tau
Vicious demoniac
drunk on wine and poetry
and never on virtue
Never on virtue!
You were the center of your night
The eye of your own hurricane
XII
Accursed poet
Terrible poet
Eroga Tau your name
Eroga Tau and silence.
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II. THE POET
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I
But the night
Your night
Eroga poet
grew smaller
and the moon
kissed your lips
and the stars
called you friend
II
Slowly you began to approach the Sun
Sun that between lament and laughter
only yesterday cursed you without ceasing
III
Eroga Tau
Poet
How tentative your walk
Your climb up from the abyss
So much time lost!
But there you were at last
Climbing up your dark and sad ravine
IV
When you opened your eyes
Prodigal poet
You abhorred the terrible
putrid refuse
of this your dark refuge
place of swine
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V
I sing with joy to your misery!
To your old life under the curse
I sing for this steep climb
Because blessed
happy and joyful
The poor
Those who cry
The hungry and thirsty
You belonged to that kingdom!
and found yourself at the point
of beginning to reign
to be consoled,
Your hunger and thirst satisfied
Good your misery
Because it was your trampoline
But cursed and cursed again
the misery that continues
in the eyes of other poets
who are cursed
in people of all kinds
those who build their houses
in the mire and muck
Accustom their appetites
to carrion and refuse
VI
Eroga Tau
Poet
Your search
Your small
and perhaps self-centered search
Changed then
and became soul
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Bread
Fire
Water and earth
Became all
All
VII
And poetry
Your poetry burst forth like a stream
that went winding toward the sea
Heavens eternal sea
VIII
Your eyes were shining
Eroga
Your eyes were two lanterns
that heaven was slowly lighting
IX
And your heart seemed
like fruit ready to be given away
A dove after the rain had ceased
A precarious silence
X
Your lifted hands shouted to the skies
asking for love
full of golden hope
like the flowers of your new smile
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XI
You were on the edge of birth
newly clothed
new in essence
XII
Your deep words
that held nothing
began to melt away
Your old search
Your old blind and deformed love
began its transformation
began to find
its true self
XIII
Eroga Tau
Poet
You wept at the sight of your misery
Then let her go
You abandoned her forever
And its worth saying
that poets who live under a curse
love their terror
The futility of their search
Their hatred and their vice
not wanting to ever leave them
This was what made you different
Eroga Tau
The forever hatred of your own evil
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XIV
Poet almost new
There you stood on the edge of dawn
gazing at the horizon
at that strange shape
The shape of the Son of God
The shape of the Son of Man
dying for your sin
For your drunkenness on wine
and on your cursed poetry
For your decrepit twisted love
Dying for you
Eroga Tau
Poet
So that you could be born
He took your place
Eroga Tau
So that you could come to the light
and embrace God
in the center of your soul
XV
You cried again
But not like before
You cried overwhelmed with such love
From such misery
XVI
And there at the feet of the wood
Of that cross waiting for you
with open arms
You hated your past and its curse
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Your evil
Your vicious way of life
Your night and hurricane
Although you were grateful the darkness
had served as the waiting room
Profound threshold
of your encounter with Truth
With Goodness and Beauty
XVII
Kneeling you asked pardon
Repented with open heart
After your morning encounter
You believed in the Son
and asked that he seal you with his Spirit
until the final day
Day when all that has been hidden
will come to light.
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III. THE BLESSED POET
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I
Eroga Tau
Eroga Tau!
At last your dawn
At last the beauty of your new day
Farewell to the misery
of the accursed poet
of the mere poet
II
Eroga
Life
Life has opened to you its straight gate
and its narrow road awaits you
full of roses and flowering thistles
And no poppies anywhere!
Eroga Tau
Your heart has been filled
with the infinite Wind
With the eternal Wind that quietly pushes
the whole universe toward its destiny
Toward a new beginning
that is never harsh
always good
prepared for those who love Him
III
Eroga
tender as a child
Today your eyes no longer remember
the years of your curse
and your hands make ready
to silently write verses
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full of poetry
Of blessed poetry
Because you
Now and always
are the blessed poet
IV
You are simple as a drop
as a small kiss
Your eyes are full of flowers
Your hair, full of melodies
and your chest expands
with a robust love
You are a man
with open arms
Eroga Tau
your wings are ready
V
Blessed poet
Today your verses are spears
Bullets, arrows
full of sincerity and love
they cut and burrow
even causing pain go deep
Healing wounds
Reviving the death that hides
behind life that denies life
VI
Today blessed poet
you no longer waste your verses
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in aimless poems
in words that are distant and flat
Today your words
inspired from above
open paths
Open windows
Doors and bridges
VII
Today you no long sing
or strip yourself
for the pleasure of your skin
Rather you name it
use new words
give it an exact placement
beautiful and certain place
VIII
Eroga Tau
You walk on the sea
Over the water
your sight set on the Lord
and you do not sink or doubt
You walk by miracle
and the miracle is not
merely to resist the torment
The miracle is right there
In your new daily walking
over the sea of your new life
And if you should stumble
what would happen
Your Lord lifts you to your calling
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and prevents you from sinking
Keeps you from being overcome
by the ancient shadows
that once were your home
IX
Eroga
Your search has ended
And although the world mocks
Your peace
Your hope and your love
cannot be touched
Now hand in hand with the Sun
nothing remains but gratitude
for a life complete
With your verse
With your hands
With the flowers
With eyes open or closed
X
Your old terror fled
Your hatred escaped
Your vicious drunkenness
has disappeared completely
Today drunk with virtue
in her alone
You smile at the Wind
XI
Eroga Tau
You now walk
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toward eternal noon
Because your light
is like the light of the dawn
that grows and grows
until the perfect day
And your perfect day
approaches by giant steps
Your gain
Your treasure
and you see its approach with joy
unlike the others
who fear death
and weep in their terrible truth
XII
Blessed and flowering poet
Full of Gods nectar
How beautiful you are today!
with your lips renewed
With the very breathe of woodland trees
Having left behind your fiery airs
and your dim light
Today you light
the way for others
Your sounds give praise to Him who is
and He embraces you as Brother
As Father
As Spirit and God.
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IV. POEMS FROM THE MOUNT OF EROGA TAU
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PRELUDE
The blessed poet
Eroga Tau
At the foot of the mountain
seeing with his heart
the Lord seated on high
begins to write
the Poems of the Mount
Which carry
in their deepest essence
the eight blessings
the Lord gave
his beloved disciples
I
Happy
Happy and happy!
The poor in spirit
who know
their hands are empty
Who have seen
their naked soul
Happy
Happy and happy!
Because they have nothing
and can look to Heaven
and expect everything
Happy
Happy and happy!
The poor
Poor in spirit
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The miserable in spirit
without wings
Without even arms
Happy
Happy and happy!
The poor
But happy because
Happy
Because the Kingdom
The magnificent eternal government
belongs to them
Those who hope for everything
from Heaven
and with empty hands
that are full
As having nothing
yet possessing all
The poor in spirit
Happy
Happy and happy!
They will reign forever
II
Those that cry
and cry to Heaven
They will be joyful forever!
Those who lament
with darkened hearts
Happy
and more happy they should be
Because they will be comforted
and the comfort
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will be new life in their eyes
Those who weep
with spirit ripped to shreds
in the winds of evil
They will be comforted
Their fingers
Their hands
and the skin of their whole body
feel the fire
The fire of their own evil
and they weep with pain
Desiring to cast it
in the depths
of the deepest pit
Those that weep
are blessed
Because they will forsake their cries
and look to Heaven
Finally without
the scars on their soul
Finally without
their ancient misery
Their cry will be calmed
after they have offered
all necessary tears
And those dried tears
will turn into clouds of praise
for their great Lord
Blessed
all streams of tears
that wind their way to Him
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III
And now you
The meek
Those who like sheep
are lead without number
without limit
to the slaughter houses
of the world and the ages
What happens
to you
The submissive
The weak
The fragile ones
Happy
Joyful
and blessed!
Because you will inherit the land
The new land
and tomorrow
you will live there in joy
And all of you beneath the protection
of the great Shepherd of the sheep
will sing in the full light of day
in that place
where the sun will not be needed
where God the Lord
will shine
and reign for all ages
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IV
Those who are hungry
and thirsty
for a justice that is true
not the kind that comes
from the hands of men
nor that which results
from their judgments
The hungry and thirsty
for a profound justice
that would rule in their souls
and then fly out
as a living message
for the whole world
Those hungry and thirsty
Rejoice and be glad
Because at long last
you will be filled
You will be completely filled!
The hungry
will have daily bread
The bread of life and justice
The thirsty
will drink the purest water
The water of life and justice
The Lord
will prepare a table for them
in the presence of their enemies
He will anoint their heads with perfume
and their cups will overflow
forever
54
V
Be abundantly joyful
you merciful ones!
Those who have compassion
will lift their hands in joy
and sing as one
Because
When the exact day
and final hour arrives
they will receive upon their heads
greater mercy
Be abundantly joyful
you merciful ones!
The compassionate
will leap and skillfully dance
singing with one voice
Because on these ones
The Judge who is righteous
and fearsome
who has in his hand
the destiny of the heavens and the earth
will have mercy
Mercy white and beautiful
VI
Those who have a heart that is clean
Transparent and lovely
Those whose heart has been washed
in the blood of the Son
Those with a pure heart
55
Full of holy laughter
and eternal peace
You are blessed
now and forever!
Because your eyes
Also clean
Washed and pure
Will see the invisible
The One who hides
behind the night
The One who eternally is
Blessed are those
with a clean heart
Joyful
Because they will see God
from the day that is still to come
until the end of time
VII
The sons and daughters of peace
The tender and strong peace-makers
Rejoice
and break into smiles
that come from deep within!
Because you will be called
by a sublime
and splendid name
Be joyful
let your smiles spread
from soul to face!
56
You who walk
wearing as shoes
the good news of peace
You who have breathed
and will eternally breathe
the divine oxygen
peace that the world
does not give
Rejoice!
Let the joy of being called
by your shining
and splendid name
illuminate the earth
Be joyful
let your smiles spread
from soul to face!
You who will be called
Sons and Daughters of God
VIII
And finally
Happy
Happy and happy!
You persecuted ones
humble as doves
keen as serpents
You walk with a firm stride
before those who torment you
those who would put out your light
Who would turn your saltiness
bland and insipid
57
Happy
Happy and happy!
Because while
history repeats itself
so does the light they want to extinguish
in order to hide misery
And the salt
they want to rob of its savor
in order to maintain the stench
Happy
Happy and happy!
Those who are persecuted
for whatever cause
Persecuted
because of their deep joy
creative joy
Persecuted
because of the Way
The Truth and the Life
Persecuted
for the sake
of spiritual poverty
Of the weeping
The meekness
The hunger and thirst for justice
The mercy
The purity of heart
The peace
and the infinite blessing
Happy
Happy and happy
You
Light and salt
of the earth!
58
POSTLUDE
The Good Earth
is poor
No seeds
fill it with life
Only waste
a tender, miserable compost
The Good Earth
is mild
Sensitive to the tools
of the Sower
Open to the rain and the sun
To the day and the night
The Good Earth
is meek
She is ready to be cultivated
Ready to be plowed
and her furrows filled
The Good Earth
Is hungry and thirsty
for seeds and water
She is open to the nutrients
her existence calls out for
The Good Earth
gives her fruit to all
just as she has received all
from the Sower and from Heaven
The Good Earth
has been cleared
of rocks and the roots of weeds
She is clean with her face to the Sun
59
The Good Earth
is peaceful
She provides a place of rest
for anyone who passes by
She is a place of freshness
full of food
for the one who needs it
The Good Earth
will often be mistreated
by dark strangers
She will be despised for her light
by those who would prefer
a dusty road
A rocky furrow
A place of thistles and thorns
The Good Earth
is the blessed ones
The eternal sons
and daughters of the Lord.
60
61
V. THE FINAL FLIGHT
62
63
I
Eroga Tau
The blessed poet
opened his eyes
and at last he became aware
that the world
the new world
was beautiful
II
Spring kissed
every far corner
His very soul
for the first time seemed to be
what it always should have been
A butterfly
III
It was so unbelievable
that he ran out
naked through the streets
and everyone rejoiced
Everyone extended
a hand to him
Everyone greeted him
with arms so transparently open
that more than a few
wiped away a tear
But it was certain
By God it was certain!
64
IV
Eroga Tau
Climbed trees again
Played with sparrows
and swallows
V
It was so real
that the blessed poet
laughed like a crazy one
Like those who see beyond
VI
No one wore a bitter face
No one even weighed an ounce
Seller and buyers
didnt exist
VII
All were beautiful
their lips
full of singing
Even the most common of voices
intoned an incomparable melody
VIII
Where was pain?
Where the loneliness?
And the night?
65
The terror?
The misery?
No one knew
Their memory had vanished
IX
There were thousands
even millions
and they smiled
But not without understanding
Not by fear
Not for lack of feeling
or lack of smiles
All was different
But certain
X
There was the new world
full of life
Surrounded by rivers pure
luminous as diamonds
And forests
tremendously green
marvelously tall
And the roads
smooth
polished as precious metal
and they bore Eroga Tau
Blessed poet
To places
that had always been waiting for him
Where he would be forever happy.
66
67
Haikus to Heaven
68
69
To our daily heaven
70
HAIKU
An ancient Japanese poetic style composed, as a principal
characteristic, of three verses of approximately 5-7-5
syllables respectively, without rhyme, that, along with
themes of transcendence, allude to nature and the
changing of seasons, succeeding in evoking a natural and
simple scene that at the same time is often beautiful and
profound.
71
HAIKUS TO YHWH
72
To You alone, YHWH Who is lovingly holy
And holily loving
73
1
Light through the window
And you enter galloping
Straight into my chest
2
The cloudy gray skies
Of this downcast autumn day
Feign that you have left
3
The sound of your voice
And a warming wind blows down
Over my frost
4
Last night the rainfall
And today my prayers to You
Purify the air
5
Your beautiful song
Fills up my heart with joy
Like crimson sunrise
6
Air fresh and pure
That burst into a torrent
Today are your kisses
74
7
Let me be free
So that I can run and dance
In our garden
8
Your gentle dew
Fell on my petals last night
And there it will stay
9
Under a willow
Enclosed in your soft branches
Im in solitude
10
Nothing moves you away
Not even the fierce storm
That ripped off my leaves
11
Into your deep well
I pitch my darkest of rocks
Never to return
12
Your embrace quenches
me like the falling snow does
to the thirsty river
75
13
You are my father
That puts my bed in order
While I softly sleep
14
You have been faithful
Like a cabin made of oak
Is in the winter
15
I love you
In the middle of autumn
Like blossoming love
16
Your embrace
Is a warm and soft blanket
On my cold night
17
When I take a drink
From your crystalline stream
I am a clear stream
18
A luminous cloud
Is your holy love today
Over my head
76
19
I am a sparrow
You are a nest and a tree
And also the sky
20
I want to kiss you
With my fragile hummingbird
Wings
21
In the soft morning
I want to sing you a song
With my dew drops
22
The mightiest wind
Knows its weak and childlike
Before your gust
23
Your words
Are a warm and soft bread
That nourishes me
24
My eyes do not see
The loving look on your face
Behind the clouds
77
25
When you come knocking
My door recognizes you and
Opens by itself
26
I know how to sing
But You know how to sing and
Be silent all at once
27
I bring a flower
And place it on your altar
Which is my covering
28
The only place
That I have ever longed to be
Is in your lap
29
Already today
The dead leaves have fallen down
And you have brought life!
30
Dont be late
Because our pot of tea
May get cold
78
31
I forever want
To be your gardener but Id
Rather be your flower
32
Keep me warm today
For inside of me has fallen
the winter rain
33
Come and bring
The spring sun to me
In your hand
34
You are my poet
I am only an apprentice
Of your seasons
35
Kiss my bitterness
And turn it back to sweet and
Fruitful pollen.
Spring, 2006
79
PRAYING
80
To all those who pray
without ceasing
81
1
Praying
is the most subtle
and profound act
2
Praying
is trusting that Someone
listens to you
3
Praying
is trusting that Someone
wants to listen to you
4
Praying
is undressing the Self before The One
that knows it
5
Praying
is also being
quiet
6
Praying
is climbing up like a little child
into your mothers lap
82
7
Praying
is kissing the cheek of the King
with tender reverence
8
Praying
is announcing to the four winds
that there is hope
9
Praying
is walking towards the sun
leaving your shadow behind
10
Praying
is recognizing that you are a fragile beggar
before the vastness
11
Praying
is raising up your heart like wisps
of incense
12
Praying
is shouting
upward
83
13
Praying
is forgetting the lie that everything
is lost
14
Praying
is inviting even your enemy
to dine in your heart
15
Praying
is singing a melody recorded
in the galaxies
16
Praying
is embracing that which remained
between Jericho and Jerusalem
17
Praying
is recognizing that you are always
accompanied
18
Praying
is letting yourself sway through
the most beautiful red sky
84
19
Praying
is drinking fresh water in the middle
of the desert
20
Praying
is turning on the light just at the beginning
of nightfall
21
Praying
is letting your Father embrace you
upon returning home
22
Praying
is the bleat of the lost
sheep
23
Praying
is the illuminated lantern of the one
who waits in the night
24
Praying
is spitting out the pieces
of the forbidden fruit
85
25
Praying
is looking up and seeing the sun
with eyes closed
26
Praying
is stripping yourself down
to be rebuilt
27
Praying
is finding refuge beyond
the multitude
28
Praying
is walking down the street
without urgency
29
Praying
is letting yourself be caressed
by the angels
30
Praying
is joining the battle fought
for Life
86
31
Praying
is knowing
that youre awake
32
Praying
is trusting that there is always
a bridge
33
And beyond poetry
Praying
is being guided by the Holy Spirit
to express ourselves to the Father
through Jesus Christ.
Winter, 2007
87
LOVING
88
Dedicated to those who have taught me
to love, for better or for worse
89
1
Loving
is teaching the most beautiful singer to sing
while she is a child
2
Loving
is sewing in the heart the seed
of the biggest tree
3
Loving
is walking on the ocean
with or without a storm
4
Loving
is sleeping in the most powerful and tender
arms
5
Loving
is singing the exact hymn that is
in each atom
6
Loving
is the miracle that knows that
its always accompanied
90
7
Loving
is walking on the only path towards
the only true home
8
Loving
is throwing yourself with head held high
against evil revealed
9
Loving
is opening your eyes and leaving
darkness deceit
10
Loving
is breathing deeply before and after
breathing deeply
11
Loving
is seeing the essential similarity between
daybreak and twilight
12
Loving
is freely living without having anything
that can be truly lost
91
13
Loving
is hoping that the last word
will be good
14
Loving
is knowing how to read the heart
of the heart of the matter
15
Loving
is forgetting about the insufficiencies
of the other
16
Loving
is forgetting that you cannot
fly
17
Loving
is loving fearlessly
before the masses
18
Loving
is sleeping softly in the arms
of the Father
92
19
Loving
is walking lucid breathing
deeply
20
Loving
is washing the imperfect feet
of your brothers
21
Loving
is seeking the highest
peak
22
Loving
is killing hollow pride
and rebellion
23
Loving
is leaving the best place
for someone else
24
Loving
is weeping the tears
of the suffering
93
25
Loving
is laughing the laughter
of the happy
26
Loving
is looking at what
cant be seen
27
Loving
is touching
the intangible
28
Loving
is bleeding the blood
of the injured
29
Loving
is letting go of both
paddles
30
Loving
is sleeping in the bottom of the boat
in the middle of the storm
94
31
Loving
is truly
overcoming
32
Loving
is fulfilling the purpose
of being human
33
Loving
is being fused to the eternal community
of the triune God.
Spring, 2007
95
PEACE
96
In gratitude to the one whos given me his peace
97
1
Peace
Fruit of the good
seed
2
Peace
Seed of the good
fruit
3
Peace
Seed that sprouts from
the depths
4
Peace
Cloud that halts the battle-hardened
flame
5
Peace
Sister of
love
6
Peace
Current that doesnt
stop
98
7
Peace
Embrace of all
the trees
8
Peace
Flowers on the side of our
heads
9
Peace
Simply and uniquely
a gift
10
Peace
Sweet and soothing
light
11
Peace
Flute that whispers
joy
12
Peace
Warm milk that was
found
99
13
Peace
Kiss on the forehead in the midst
of the cold
14
Peace
Fresh air that enters
the home
15
Peace
Fresh air that leaves
the home
16
Peace
Exact brief
precise word
17
Peace
Caress in the middle
of the dark night
18
Peace
Clean
shirt
100
19
Peace
Clean
feet
20
Peace
Clean
eyes
21
Peace
Clean
mouth
22
Peace
Clear
heart
23
Peace
Bell that announces the end
of the wound
24
Peace
End of the
wound
101
25
Peace
Scar that no
longer hurts
26
Peace
Full
circle
27
Peace
Sky above
the self
28
Peace
Soul in its
port
29
Peace
Full
melody
30
Peace
Full
harmony
102
31
Peace
Full
rhythm
32
Peace
Full
music
33
Peace
Full
Silence.
Spring, 2007
103
WAIT
104
To Marta and Ivn
Paulina and Gonzalo
105
1
Wait
Like the suns struggle
for dawn
2
Wait
Like the chrysalis dreams of
flying
3
Wait
Like the lookout of a slender
lighthouse
4
Wait
Like the stream that wants
to be a cloud
5
Wait
Like the cloud that wants
to be a stream
6
Wait
Like the masterpiece
in the rock
106
7
Wait
Like the architect seeing
whats still not there
8
Wait
Like the dry ground awaits
the rain
9
Wait
Like music seeks
the ear
10
Wait
Like a kiss requested
by the lonely one
11
Wait
Like the blood
of a warrior
12
Wait
Like labor
pains
107
13
Wait
Like the cascade that runs
towards the sea
14
Wait
Like coolness
in the desert
15
Wait
Like a song that seeks
a heart
16
Wait
Like a heart that seeks
a song
17
Wait
Like a flower that yearns for
its fruit
18
Wait
Like a fruit that yearns for
another tree
108
19
Wait
Like skin seeks
a caress
20
Wait
Like a caress that seeks
skin
21
Wait
Like a kiss that seeks
its mouth
22
Wait
Like a mouth that seeks
its kiss
23
Wait
Like a heart that calls
for its owner
24
Wait
Like an owner that calls
for his heart
109
25
Wait
Like a captain that never
surrenders
26
Wait
Like a mother that awaits
her son
27
Wait
Like a father that dreams
of fruits
28
Wait
Like a close friend
that is now far away
29
Wait
Like an arrow that flies
towards its target
30
Wait
Like the admiral that stays
on course
110
31
Wait
Like the one who has nothing more
than the miracle
32
Wait
Like God awaits
his people
33
Wait
Like the people await
their God.
Spring, 2007
111
JOY
112
To my kids at play
113
1
Joy
is the one
that finds you
2
Joy
knows your real
name
3
Joy
kisses your eyes while
you sleep
4
Joy
sings your favorite
song
5
Joy
seeks your chest
to inhabit it
6
Joy
as a queen never
gives up
114
7
Joy
has large reserves
of bread and water
8
Joy
also knows how
to cry
9
Joy
doesnt know how
to keep score
10
Joy
sometimes walks
backwards
11
Joy
laughs at itself
in its face
12
Joy
doesnt predict
the weather
115
13
Joy
doesnt know about curses
or spells
14
Joy
sprouts as a brook
and turns into a road
15
Joy
is a young
and old girl
16
Joy
also sings
very low
17
Joy
has the voice
of a child
18
Joy
tastes of wild
mint and wheat
116
19
Joy
doesnt use cold
ledgers
20
Joy
doesnt look
out the corner of her eye
21
Joy
takes
her time
22
Joy
knows how
to dance
23
Joy
doesnt have
a last name
24
Joy
forgets
her age
117
25
Joy
walks uphill
without complaining
26
Joy
always gives
thanks
27
Joy
kisses everything
in her path
28
Joy
knows clearly
who she is
29
Joy
reads her pains
well
30
Joy
doesnt see the plank in the eye
of her brother
118
31
Joy
is the twin sister
of love
32
Joy
surrenders all her burdens
to heaven and trusts
33
Joy
is the blood of Gods
children.
Spring, 2007
119
LIGHT
120
To the one who is our light
121
1
Light of men
Invisible and invincible
forever
2
Light that invents color
Give to me of your chromatic
scales
3
Light that lives giving itself
Let me give myself like you
fully
4
Light of ages
Wisdom of yesterday today
and through the centuries
5
Light of my own life
That showed me my true
face
6
Light of our holy place
That reveals itself without ever
being prideful
122
7
Light of God
Word made flesh
Flesh made love
8
Love made life
Life given for me
And for all.
Spring, 2007
123
LATER
124
To those that fear
125
1
Later
The crying spring
Cleans us
2
Later
The shining clouds
Embrace you
3
Later
Tears no longer stay
For the night
4
Later
Only memories kept
In motion
5
Later
Everything that there is
Will fully be in the today
6
Later
Black and white fantasies
Dissolve
126
7
Later
Everything will be in full uterine
Silence
8
Later
We will happily look back on ourselves
From afar
9
Later
That which was will not remain
Only the moment will
10
Later
We will sing an infinite song
In silence
11
Later
Gehenna will dissolve
On the cross
12
Later
All will kiss the same sun
With their lives
127
13
Later
No one will kiss the dirty hand
Of the imposter
14
Later
We will be like branches
Of the same tree
16
Later
No one will remember
Existence
17
Later
We will live actively and fully
In an ocean
18
Later
No one will tire
Of life
19
Later
We will kiss the pure air
While walking
128
20
Later
We will cultivate the earth
Without thistles
21
Later
The dead of night
Will leave
22
Later
The accumulated tears
Will wash away
23
Later
Our hidden names
Will be known
24
Later
The boundless love
Will be the air
25
Later
Death will fall flat on its face
Defeated
129
26
Later
There will be space and time
For everyone
27
Later
We will drink the fresh water
Of the present
28
Later
Life will be aerial
And marine
29
Later
All the heavenly beings
Will dance into the sun
30
Later
Fights for borders
Will be a game
31
Later
All paths will lead
To love
130
32
Later
Finally the home longed for
Will be ours
33
Later
Death will eternally
Die.
Spring, 2010
131
SOMETHING REMAINS
132
To those that remain
when it all breaks down
133
1
Something remains
Beyond the silence
And the light
2
Something remains
Like a clear recurring
Cyclone
3
Something remains
Between you and me
That loves us
4
Something remains
Fragile and vulnerable
Like life
5
Something remains
More clear than the sun
And the rain
6
Something remains
That fills the hands
And the chest
134
7
Something remains
Like a smooth kiss
On the forehead
8
Something remains
That isn't wholly the same
As us
9
Something remains
Like after the autumn
That passed
10
Something remains
In the meantime we pass
Through the fire
11
Something remains
Worthier and deeper
Than this life
12
Something remains
Worthier and deeper
Than this death
135
13
Something remains
Blue red yellow
And white
14
Something remains
Intimately beyond
The dreamed
15
Something remains
After the breakdown
Of time
16
Something remains
Singing far away
In the silence
17
Something remains
Like a simple bundle
Of wheat ears
18
Something remains
With neither its costume nor its mask
Forever
136
19
Something remains
Awaiting the eternal and
Infinite embrace
20
Something remains
That loves and sings
And smiles.
Spring, 2010
137
VISUAL PSALMS
138
Dedicated to the Trinity
and to our infinite brotherhood
139
1
Do not let me fall
Lord of heaven and earth
In downward spirals
2
You wait my table
When I dont have the right
To even clean your plate
3
My hut and my boat
Its all yours Lord of the seas
In fact I am your fish
4
Who else but You
Is the one that gives meaning and structure
To the story that I am
5
Long and narrow
Is the path that you gave me
And also aerial
6
In this immensity
It would be a foolish delusion not to know
That I am a child of your hand
140
7
Made of wood
Is our house that you build
Carpenter of love
8
Dont let me climb
So high that I forget You
Without even knowing it
9
In the desserts
I only ask you for a sign
Of your love
10
Such beauty Lord
That you let fall through the depths
Of my eyes
11
I am your creation
Privileged part of your work
That sees itself
12
Your cross Lord
Empty today is a window to heaven
Thats about to descend
141
13
We continue our journey
You dressed up as the sun in the horizon
And my shadow staying behind
Autumn, 2011
142
143
HAIKUS AGAINST INACCURACIES
144
To the abundance of seeds that did not sprout
To exist -- for this he created all things; the creatures of the world have health in them, in
them is no fatal poison, and Hades has no power over the world: for uprightness is immortal.
The Book of Wisdom 1:13-14
The New Jerusalem Bible
145
To exist for this he created all things
1
The one who created
subjected it all to vanity
abundant and brief
2
Death
continuously dancing against
existence
3
Life
always singing quickly
softly and obstinately
146
The creatures of the world have health in them
1
Life and life-expectancy
at the cost of abundant death
and death-expectancy
2
Heath for some
at the cost of suffering for others
all around
3
Life decays
and endlessly loses more
than it defeats
147
In them there is no fatal poison
1
Poison
the blood of so many
that spills
2
Poison
abundant and tenacious
like nothingness
3
Poison
multicolored and increasing
here and there
148
And Hades has no power over the world
1
The abyss
expands from horizon
to horizon
2
The night
is long and cold
and lonely
3
Gehenna
identifies with the land
the air and the sea
149
For uprightness is immortal
1
And uprightness
seems to have died
of grief
2
Reason
exchange its spacious house
for one of lunacy
3
Death
pounced on righteousness
and crucified it
But there is a third day.
Autumn, 2011
150
151
TEARS
152
A sufferers permanently
153
1
A tear
The size of the sun
Covers us
2
A tear
Is every minimal quark
That composes us
3
A tear
Was the ocean from where
The earth sprouted
4
A tear
Hydrated life
Original
5
A tear
Binds us to all
The living
6
A tear
Reflects heaven
Which is other
154
7
A tear
Will receive us
When we weep.
Winter, 2011
155
UNDENIAL
156
157
1
I cannot deny
That God loves me
Palpably
2
I cannot deny
That air exists
And is given to me for free
3
I cannot deny
That life is obstinate
Always
4
I cannot deny
That God is polyphonic
And multi-chromatic
5
I cannot deny
That love gives meaning
To the material.
Spring, 2011
158
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Pauper God Theographies
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PRELUDE
I repeat, to-morrow Thou shalt see that obedient flock
who at a sign from me will hasten to heap up the hot
cinders about the pile on which I shall burn Thee for
coming to hinder us. For if anyone has ever deserved
our fires, it is Thou. To-morrow I shall burn Thee.
When the Inquisitor ceased speaking he waited some
time for his Prisoner to answer him. His silence weighed
down upon him. He saw that the Prisoner had listened
intently all the time, looking gently in his face and
evidently not wishing to reply. The old man longed for
him to say something, however bitter and terrible. But
He suddenly approached the old man in silence and
softly kissed him on his bloodless aged lips. That was all
his answer. The old man shuddered. His lips moved. He
went to the door, opened it, and said to Him: 'Go, and
come no more... come not at all, never, never!' And he
let Him out into the dark alleys of the town. The Prisoner
went away.
Fydor Dostoevsky, The Grand Inquisitor.
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To the impoverished Logos;
To Enrique y Carmen; To J. Caputo and G. Vattimo;
And to the memory of Facundo Cabral, recently murdered.
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, .
St. John 1:18
AT THE DOORWAY OF THE CATHEDRAL
At the doorways of the cathedrals
both mad men and poor men gather
They lie on the ground
On steps made of millennial marble
They stink
They look wretched with their dirty rags
Frightening the worthy parishioners
that dare not look at such people
and pass by with piety in their eyes
A legend says
that one day God dressed up as a pauper
and reclined by the main door
of the most splendorous cathedral
They say that as the days and nights went by
of that wintry month
God died of cold and hunger
Some also say
that this really happened
that it's not merely a legend
Since then all cathedrals are empty
God Resurrected having
sought shelter somewhere else
They say he lives happily nowadays
in a gypsy tent close to a port.
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PAUPER GOD This true God
of absolute unique substance
(all else is a robust process of change)
Is very funny
Hes an enthusiast of life
and also of simple smiles
Let's make clear that he is also serious
Because life is painful
by etymological definition
In one of those playful outbursts
our Lord of Heaven and Earth
has dressed up as a pauper
choosing it as his favorite outfit
And as the last straw of irony
he always carries
a text from Mark Twain
as his sacrosanct Bible
The Prince and the Pauper! This is the sacred text!
He tends to shout in the streets
lifting the old textbook
with his shaky hand
Repent, princes and princesses of your lives of pauperism!
He shouts point-blank
and people look at him and smile
Schizophrenia is amusing
when you don't have it yourself
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or when someone you love does not have it
Pauper God
stumbles through the squares preaching
and likes to rest from his sermons
giving bread crumbs to the pigeons
in deep and liturgical silence.
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SPARROW-GOD
If God existed nothing would change Sartre used to say
from his cross-eyed perspective
But it is clear
that neither the Platonic god
nor the Aristotelian god
nor the non-god of prince Gautama
nor the stoic Logos
nor the one of Spinoza
anyway
Could change anything
Quite like the deist god
Crazy watchmaker
Distant chatterbox
Powerless by definition
Apathetic by supreme excellence
That god
nothing
a nobody
Most definitely
Sartre was right
No contribution
A cold and calculating god
Unshakeable
Nothing
But they can never deny
That the sparrow-God
The impoverished God
The God passionate for his work of art
The God that is mad about love
The martyr God
This and only this God
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changes everything
He leaves everything in deconstruction
like dancing atoms.
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AILING GOD
One day God got sick with cancer
He started to get thin
rapidly
Bags under his eyes
Pasty voice
and nobody visited him
in the hospital room
That cold vaulted room
with metallic beds
painted in what-once-was-white
God stared
at his roommates
All ill with the same hell
All distant
Close to death
Full of pain
just like Him
but accompanied for the most part
God on the other hand
Alone
On one occasion
he woke up right at midnight
and like never before
he unprecedentedly thought
about death
His death
nut not a redeeming one
not a symbolic one
not a mythical or a cosmic one
Just a death
like those that are common nowadays
A lonely death
Cold
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Sad and empty
An absurd death
He swallowed hard
Looked out the window
and saw an acacia in bloom
beneath the light of the moon
He closed his eyes
Took a deep breath
and wept.
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A VISIT TO THE LORD
On one sad day
Frustrated with my lovely wife
Filled with a bitterness
that couldn't be hidden
I looked for shelter
in the house of the Lord
In those days he used to live
in an old building
close to Parque Forestal
His apartment was simple
A Table
Two recliners
Three chairs
Eight oil paintings
Several bookshelves
Old and new records
In the end
A normal place
Clear and warm
just like the house
of a real friend should be
There I was
with a few tears
about to dry up
getting on the old elevator
Seventh floor
Door seventy-seven
I ring the bell
And He opens the door
Hello You had a fight with her
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He says as he reads my eyes
Yes
I answer quietly
Come on in I'll bring you a cup of coffee
We sit down
Silence Silence
Mine and His
Silences that get together
And understand each other
Then he stands up
passes his hand over my shoulder
and says
Make yourself at home As I have an appointment to run to
Then I'm left there alone
looking at the sunset
a perfect and fluid watercolor
over the balcony
in deep peace.
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THE SPIRIT OF GOD To all women
The Spirit of God
Is sensitive and tender
like a gust
Delicate breath
She is like a maiden
turning into a hummingbird
that sits in the air
to kiss the flowers
and hover over the waters
In order to create life
at the beginning of time
The Spirit of God
Feminine and sweet
like a mother and a grandmother
Went to live
in the hearts of the children
Also in bread
In blueberry jam
and in the water trickling down the hillsides
The Spirit of God
one day I remember seeing her
as a white dove
drenched by the rain
in the eaves of the old temple
Bereaved
shivering with winter
upon seeing from afar
On the Mount of the Skull
Her beloved carpenter
Hardy thin and young
Dying the death
Of all the damned and condemned.
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INHALING TOLUENE To the children and young men
of the port in Talcahuano
It was nighttime
at the doorway to the market
of the rancid port
And He chose to sleep there
Almighty God
Creator of heaven and earth
Curiously, no one ignored him
and they allowed him a spot
amongst the damp
dirty bodies
That night was special
the children slept quietly
Without sodomitical disturbances
Without cold
Without hunger
And toluene had nothing to do with it
It wasnt a work of its magic
But God on that night
was shaken with shame and sorrow
with cold and hunger
He was even seen inhaling
that miraculous substance
which drowned away
for a few minutes
his misery.
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ATHEISTIC GOD In the memory of A. Schopenhauer
One day
dreary and cold
God became an atheist
He believed no more
He refused to trust
In life after death
In eternal hope
In universal love
And in Himself
Godless-God
walked crestfallen
through the city streets
Looking just like any mortal
and he started to turn bitter
His heart turned into gall
and he stopped talking
He stopped smiling to the children
There he was
on any given day
After several years
sitting on a bench
looking at his shoes
chewing on his loneliness
Wearing his black coat
his hands in his pockets
in silence
And along comes a guard
Thinking he was a beggar
And you what are you doing here
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He asks accusingly
God slowly
raises his eyes
and looks at him from the depths
That is exactly what I have been wondering for several months already
Responds Godless-God
Almost dying with grief.
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OLD GOD
God
mysteriously and inexplicably
Considering his sublime nature
One day became old
He couldnt chew well
Lost control of his bowels
Began to forget things
And to repeat the same old stories
His sons and daughters
seriously came to an agreement
and took him to a nursing home
where others would take good care of him
and there God remained
forgotten
Today he can be seen
chatting with his friends
who sometimes wander through other worlds
under high doses of benzodiazepines
To whom he likes to repeat his tales
Of how He sculpted his dear Adam
Of how He came up with idea of the Ark
Of how He divided the Red Sea
Of how He multiplied bread
Of how He left behind an empty grave
and of how one of these days hell return
in glory
Blowing up the places such as these
where they abandoned Him
Those whom He loved so dearly.
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RED GOD To Patricia
In those strange days
of discontent and utopian illusions
God decided to join
the ranks of the red revolution
It was strange of Him
to support such a radical cause
Especially a cause
where He was considered to be absent
But there He was
One more of the troops
that would fight for the people
until the people
Became what they always should have been
Owners of their own destiny
free and sovereign
He remembered
for motivation
Those paragraphs Saint Luke wrote
where he described the first community
of Nazarenes in Jerusalem
as brothers and sisters
that would sell all that was theirs
Personal
Private
To make it ours
Each and everyones
and he made more sense
of his gesture of utopian decision
There God was
being trained
by those young dreamers
that had arrived from the island
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and could masterfully use
Guns and rifles
Bombs and explosives
In the end
Tools for change
Resources for the red transformation
God had his doubts
especially
when he learned how to use
those curved blades
of unparalleled sharpness
That should swiftly greet
the throats of the wretched ones
and that would be it
Life would fly by
just as someone says enough!
The training was thorough
He learned how to forget names
and numbers
He became an expert on amnesia
to protect his comrades
But one night
The darkest night of all
while God was meditating in silence
War-dressed soldiers
captured Him while He was home
They blinded him and took him
to unknown chambers
Where He met the deaths of many
Where he suddenly met
the most macabre face of mankind
Where he knew that many of those
whom He had created for love
Were nothing more than incarnated demons
conscienceless beasts
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that tore down words
with the most crafty and vulgar violence
Violence most bastardly and sinister
God cried
In such a way he never had before
He cried with fear
With sorrow
With rage
With hunger and thirst
With repeated asphyxia
With electrical spasms
With violated honor
With faithful and virile silence
Red God
Bloody
Dreamer
God
Wrong or not
Makes no difference
Who knows what became of him
There was no tombstone
There was no grave
He was disappeared.
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TAXI DRIVER To Mr. Manuel
For a while
Just a couple of years
God Almighty
Creator of the heavens
worked as a taxi driver
He would tell stories
to the stressed out passengers
Asked them about the news
and charged them just what was due
Maybe a little less
because he knew about the custom
in the big cities
of saying keep the change
In that way
God saved many lives
because each and every day
he would plant a seed
in a simple way
in the hearts of his passengers
who would usually reply
with a surprised smile
of gratitude
to the ineffable gift
of a moment of mysterious peace.
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OFFICE AND UNEMPLOYMENT
God worked in an office downtown
Small cubicle
with a never working
air conditioner
He made coffee for the boss
Ran errands from here to there
every busy morning
from bank to bank
And sometimes he would sit on a bench
look at the pigeons
Eat a granola bar
Drink a juice box
and go back to working, skipping lunch
The trip back home in the evening
for the eternal God
Was similar to the trip every morning
An hour and a half
Transferring from bus to metro to bus
Squeezing and pushing
Little air
Somnolence
God would be tired when he got home
Exhausted from his tasks
He would turn on the TV
Check out the news
and fall asleep on the couch
to later wake up feeling numb
and go to his bed
That morning was just like any other
for our Lord
Insufferable alarm clock
Shower
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Cheese sandwich
Black coffee
And then bus, metro, bus
A four block jog
Full elevator to the tenth floor
Clock in
And done
But this time
on his desk
an envelope
Due to company difficulties your services are no longer needed Come get your settlement
After seven years
for it to end so abruptly
God felt badly
Very badly
It had never happened to Him
Unemployed He thought
He took to the street
With all the spare time ahead of him
Useless time
Empty time
He bought the newspaper
to look for a job
but things were complicated
Our omniscient God
did not finish college
so the search lasted days
Weeks and months
The poor soul could not make it any longer
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and ideas popped in his mind
To start drinking
To jump off a bridge
But no
How could there be no job
A simple job
for someone with the willingness
and the necessity
But nothing
A year and three months have passed
since God has been without a job
and bills start to pile up
The credit he took for college
Water
Electricity
Gas
God the former clerk
now unemployed
looks at the calendar
and it seems infinite
To Him
the one who created infinite.
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ILLEGAL GOD To the millions of
undocumented immigrants
As everyone knows
Our fair and loving God
is a foreigner
in a planetary sense
One time he was asked for his ID
and the policeman was not satisfied
Besides, his accent
His complexion
His suspicious look
It all pointed to him having to leave
He couldnt even pass as a tourist
They took him by the collar
Gave him a thorough pat down
and left him at the border
And just like that, humiliated,
he departed to a different land
but history repeated itself
This filthy immigrant What is he doing here He is here to steal from us
To take our jobs Go away you damn bastard
And from border to border
the one and only God
Creator of the earth and the seas
illegal alien
Went looking for a place to call home
yet nothing
He was a foreigner everywhere
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Finally
he simply decided
to use hidden border passages
and to live in secrecy.
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DOWN SYNDROME GOD To the dream of Cristian A.
God
one good day walked down the street
with a special face
Innocence was the halo of his visage
and the cold abstraction separated from his temple
Down Syndrome God
Joyful
Candid
Child
Love
And caress made flesh
Many thought he was just another one
of those boys
that destiny had marked
with that painful trisomy of the 21st pair
But no
He was God
God Himself
Diminished in omniscience
But augmented in naivety
and in spontaneous kissing
The Master
no longer had answers to the questions
no longer discoursed with Nicodemus
nor with Gamaliel
With Hegel
nor with Nietzsche
He would just smile
and sing his brief song
Clap
and follow the butterflies
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Down Syndrome God
Full of love to sow
Full of instant
here and now
forever.