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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19

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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49

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

52

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.

166

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.

181

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.