Hummingbird
HUMMINGBIRD
Matias Sayko
1
Hummingbird
When the soul is already flesh
And you live naked.
Everything outside is deep
And the other gives us a heartbeat back.
M.S.
A little bird chirps at you
Inside you.
Not only the chest appeases you,
It also brushes you with its wings
the nose.
M.S.
PATAGONIA
2
Hummingbird
Abandoned next to an old Land Rover
he fears that his thinking does not include the world.
He doubts the presence of his loved one somewhere,
But he imagines him in the light form resting
On some plateau on the moon.
The dry grass at his feet folds into his thoughts
he looks at himself from above like a bird in the night
he lingers contemplating the expanse of the infinite South.
The ritual ends when he finds the desired victim:
himself.
Everything begins and everything ends when he discovers
that there is no other desired object than the reason of his own existence.
He gets restless.
You shouldn't carry such abandonment.
He returns to the point to which he should never have left, which he accepts as his
only destination.
And cries.
Cries standing up looking at the moon.
He listens to the chewing of the bird that flies over him,
Looking back from above
And the route continues deserted,
While time eternizes in a poetic silence.
It gets darker
And the world stays the same
And here practically nothing has happened.
RAINBOW
3
Hummingbird
Nor is the darkness so incomprehensible
Not even the silence so dangerous
The illusion of the night caresses him and allows him to discover his own world,
A world without threats.
The night and its intimacy can be unacceptable
Like moving
With a breath that calms us
And silence all noise.
But it can't undo the restlessness
From your memory.
Your memory opens a gorge
Of lights, of calls, of sunflowers that jump and multiply
And they flood the room
Jumping every fence of the day.
I long for you there
I see your shine in the middle of the opacity of the night,
You have a lot of it
And you unfold a rainbow in this dream to be completed.
UNTAMABLE
4
Hummingbird
All these stones I collected were not enough
to mark this territory
Plus the wood I saved for the fire
that never heated the home and the bed remains as unmade now.
All this work was in vain because the days
Continue to age themselves.
But the truly useless thing is to tame myself
to feed you on me every night,
When the moon starts to go around
and hits its back against the edges.
I will never satisfy your appetite, and there will never be
a day identical to this or that one when I collected the stones
to set up our lair,
den that you broke while gathering firewood.
I hear your voice
And I walk away.
Very
very
far.
FAULTS
And clumsy music comes out of my hand,
And from me embarks a blind route
And a wound in the air that I exhale.
5
Hummingbird
I ignore the future of the stars
Also what hides the earth under the floor,
Because what I'm looking for is always on the other side.
I am alone.
The dog comes and licks my hands.
I leave a mark on the wood, or is this a dream?
Silence ensued and it is thick,
the music of my hands sank him
The route, lost it,
my wound bewitched it.
And I'm still alone.
Darkness fell in the middle of the night
And we couldn't hide it.
THE BODY
In his light
I listen how the secret spreads
from an impossible distance:
I talk about him
as of events that happened
6
Hummingbird
in another circle.
But when at night
the need, the desire advances
is invoked
and with natural punishment
I banish him.
In a murmur of stars
comes,
he shelters next to my pillow
and from this raw purity
Good is given birth
from him borns and concludes in it.
STAR
Every dream floods with its light
my inner room
as the sunsets give to the afternoon
a light apparently
impossible to solve.
Every dream is a manuscript
7
Hummingbird
with certainties and delays
of waking life
that gently illuminate
what perhaps I refuse to see.
More than you know
I have insisted with hits on the ground,
in the water,
in the air,
his return.
But the size of things
is bigger than what I can handle.
I have failed in the impossible,
In forgetting his face,
In the calm,
In the silence before sleeping.
More than you know
I have insisted to heaven
and leave for myself
the blue ash of his eyes,
the sugar of his princely lips
and his memory in the shape of a star.
ANGELS
Now that we have discovered
The origin of silence
The words will remain still
On the horizon.
There will be no room for doubt.
Nor will we look at the light with the same eyes.
The void will cover the paths with its thickness
8
Hummingbird
And in this June we will stop leaving
The ashes of what never was.
We’ll say hello
To its dizzying step towards the abyss.
And only your own and perhaps other people's angels
They will save us.
TWO SPIRTS
You will be there when they reach me
The last questions,
The sobs,
The feeling of having left everything
In the air
Unfulfilled
In the wasteland of oblivion.
Our essential games
A handful of genes and breaths
invisible fabrics
9
Hummingbird
Cross airs
Impalpable.
It was a fade in time
a gust of wind
Unleashed an invisible Big Bang
Intangible and you went far away where I can't touch you
To cross that membrane
between two spirits
So that I am bones and muscles
And you are an uncontrollable, liquid mass.
Condemned,
Prevented from meeting,
Brutal and subtle,
Simultaneous and strange
Different and identical,
Our crops,
Our functions
Our properties.
FRANCISCO
Francisco has eyes like seeds
He is the sunflower that dawns,
He has a soul of coral, breath of breeze.
Francisco can kick the salt out of the waves.
He has a fruit body,
He is tender like kiwi,
Fibrous like mango.
Francisco can extract nectar from flowers,
Look at the cosmos through the lock of a door,
Talk to the stars.
Francisco looks at me when I look
Over another side.
10
Hummingbird
He is the smile or the tears that I don't cry,
He is that cobblestone street that I cross
The one that makes him die of laughter
Or when I trip on the sidewalk.
small monument,
Francisco is a witness that I am
And that I’ve been.
THE HUMMINGBIRDS
Hummingbirds do not make noise when they grow
The compass does not mark each stretch
The calendar does not lash them with a foot
Or maybe yes, I don't know.
Hummingbirds are ambassadors of good omens,
It doesn't matter if there is incense to clean the house,
What you learn by watching them, is what you learn
When you look at the fire.
You don't mess with hummingbirds,
Just as you don't rub shoulders with ruffians,
With the blades you don't fly
They are killed with indifference
11
Hummingbird
Except for hummingbirds and fairy godmothers.
STEPS
I hear footsteps inside
Or outside,
I can't distinguish them.
I paralyze.
I touch the air with my hands and write words
like caresses
As if he were the one there.
I know there is no one.
He is the owner of my words,
My pulse starts to rise
We have found a place together
Father and son,
The mute mouth,
The body speaking
12
Hummingbird
Pawn signs
The eye is our ear.
I WONDER WHAT YOUR EMPIRE WILL BE?
I wonder what your empire will be
Now that you sleep in the center of the Earth,
Now that the sky shows you its roots.
You will always be my written sunflower,
My window to the wind.
I will drink your silence
Until you are awake.
And we will walk from this world
To another world.
The wind points the rivers
And I don't forget you.
I have pride,
My son is the king
13
Hummingbird
That makes the Earth rotate.
RAIN
The wrinkles of language
On the banks of the River
They rest from their owners.
The sun warms them
It transforms them into gas, they rise
And in raindrops they fall
Saying
“Greet, winter, nectar, hummingbird.”
The rain and its language
They dazzle me,
Behind the water,
before falling
The words fade away
Breaking free
once and
for
all.
14
Hummingbird
YOUR HANDS
You think you look far away
But your hands are close here
Feeling the dark.
They wander through the void,
They fall,
They cross,
Never to pray
But to feel less alone
Or to join the empty darkness
I don't know,
They have that air that I like
That air that nourishes them
That makes them yours.
15
Hummingbird
NO TITLE NUMBER 1
Still, wounded,
Feeling a bird
Scratching my palm
without opening my eyes
There is absolute faith
A faith without hope.
Still without moving,
Waiting for the sun to rise,
And the heat warm the room.
The night speaks in another language
It has other angles
It is essential
Its clarity
And its risks.
inhabit the void
The nostalgia,
Something beyond or closer
From confusion.
16
Hummingbird
NO TITLE NUMBER 2
What will become of us in a while, tomorrow?
What will become of our nights, of the days without their nights,
From the Passage of solar light to lunar light,
The one who stands straight now
And announces that the flood will end?
What will become of the bitten brush?
Without its picture to paint,
Of the dawn that violently interrupts sleep,
What will it be like when this painting is finished?
And we are alone,
Nude,
With or without help?
17
Hummingbird
LEANING TREE
I have the urge to imitate
this leaning tree.
Where?
It infringes the afternoon and the river.
This inclination could be attributed
Or impulse of otherness
To the poison I injected to help it straighten
And far from it,
It was violated a little more.
And why do I wonder,
Why this urgency to imitate him?
18
Hummingbird
A POEM
I am sore with fatigue,
I look at the wind,
Every shadow,
The dream that does not come descends
Under a book by my favorite Nigerian author.
The pause
Between the fall of the eyelids
And an angel that flies in circles approaches
To my other half
That still belongs to me.
My eyes are taken by surprise
For his innocence.
I stay motionless.
There is something that scares me when
I go down the stairs
Of my self.
The throat and its piled-up screams.
Let me sing you a poem
Who accidentally names us.
19
Hummingbird
NO TITLE NUMBER 3
Because silences take over the seasons
They are homes, they are heaven,
Because the sun gives them a word
When descending a lake
And with its shine
The spirits of darkness,
Who are also inhabitants of silence,
They are filled with something inexpressible, that has no form,
But they fill this void.
The word is strength and it is key
More than a lightning
Or the glimpse of an eternal reality,
It is the fire suspended in time
From the mind that mentions it.
And we are here on our knees
Like dethroned kings
Before the majesty of the silences,
From what was never named.
Today I leave you my word
So you can keep it on your shelf
And live a little inside it.
20
Hummingbird
DESERT
I hold back my sunflower,
I call him by its name.
Your absence predisposes me
To the void in the chest
And its spiritual shine
To the light.
I precipitate with my eyes the fall of the world
And I invent other regions
That give me back what I lost.
But they disappear.
and I find myself lost
In front of this desert
Without a tear to drink.
The memory
On fire
Invades
the
Time.
21
Hummingbird
YELLOW FLOWER
The relief of letting your soul escape through your mouth
Or that little wind that comes through the car window
Hit so that your howl is heard.
I'm here.
All the light I need is
Somewhere inside me
And it's enough for life to matter.
The smile,
Meanwhile,
Waits behind the eyes of a yellow flower.
22
Hummingbird
BLACK CLOUDS
And each stage tests the spirit
It is not the end, nor the destination.
Patience.
In the problems.
In danger.
And although today the reality is
In the middle of a crime novel
a sneeze
can put
Its final point.
Mosquito bite
can unleash
A Big Bang.
How to get rid of these black clouds?
Consciousness
of fragility. Trust.
Bet!
Jump!
Dance!
The wall is not that high,
The sea is not so deep.
Take refuge in the passion for words.
Literature is my rescue
My Resurrection
23
Hummingbird
ADVENTURE
A look to see things without falling
Words that throw rain
through the mouth
put out this fire.
The lost promises,
the last suns
In front of the mirror the truth
Pity
With its thorn.
The. world. is.
GORGEOUS
and
GLOOMY.
Tears like thunder.
An owl that guards my sleep.
I accept the impossible poem,
The absolute adventure.
EYELID
24
Hummingbird
The moon kneels in front of the lake
whispers his feelings
in an unknown language
that only they understand.
The water laughs out loud
and jumping generates circles
of small waves.
Every night it's the same ritual:
the brightness that goes down,
the laughts
and the dawn that ends this union.
I look at them
and my soul is magnified.
The water rises to the clouds
with vigor and with certainty
to fall in a different place
in which I was.
Not knowing what the Moon's secret is
Gives him lots of intrigue.
This is infinity.
Weighs the same as a drop
and occupies the same place.
Eyes that do not forget.
Time.
And a little place to chat.
INFINITE NUMBER FLOOR
25
Hummingbird
Few know about my sunflower
Open here so high on this infinite number floor
Safe from pests.
On my balcony lies indelible,
invisible,
combat after birth
and defends itself from the wind.
Drink dew, vibrate at the touch of the sun
And with its petals it greets with a smile
to each walker.
Perfume this blue verse
and in every blank space
unravels the anxieties of silence.
I evoke you playful, sweet, tragic flower
on this rainy day
in which the drops cry with love
when falling into puddles of water.
I look at you in solitude
and I feel joy
to be the creator
of the deepest and most amazing
flower.
NO TITLE NUMBER 4
I woke up and the exorbitant water falls from the sky like the ladies fall on the side-
walks.
26
Hummingbird
I woke up to hear her fall. An exquisite parade that nature gives us from time to time.
If that water was boiling everything would be more fun.
My blood higher than the wind thirsts for words. Thirst to name the unnameable.
The rain is gloomy when there is no sun. That's why I woke up to accompany her.
And the perfume that illuminates as you pass
Leave jewelry everywhere.
Courage, transparency, brutality,
You have woken me up from a bright dream
To hug me.
LOCKED
I'm talking about a way
In which not finding conversation with himself,
immerses entirely in the midnight of his being.
27
Hummingbird
I speak of a useless meditation,
between two poles without magnetism,
where is my worst fear: silence to myself.
Now suddenly, I am sand,
I take up space, I grow old, I live.
I accumulate.
What will we see when we no longer have eyes?
Maybe this silent existence that I lived
locked in me.
Or something similar.
To not live.
When the rain no longer wets our faces.
The conclusion is always a shipwreck,
an improbable sea, aboard a non-existent ship.
LOCKED II
Rain,
we are two foreigners,
mind and body inhabiting me,
my name is a journey a wander
between rooms, doors opening and closing.
28
Hummingbird
People enter my dream as if through another house
and their colors dissolve, they evaporate as soon as I begin to make them visible,
but we already know,
It's the lockdown.
Outside the rain falls, someone says it's nap time,
we are two wounded foreigners
who are going to lie down.
ETERNAL DISPUTE
An eternal dispute for
the last thing that remains.
The red look.
Is this all? There is nothing else?
Why then the promise,
the engraved stone, the branch that resists fire, the singing of crickets,
29
Hummingbird
the wind that blows away sadness and ashes.
Once, barefoot,
Once? Several.
Never naked and barefoot.
Or so I think.
Or is it a hoax?
A pasty medicine against death,
An hymn, in the middle of the sea,
under a starless night sky?
Red,
Red the look,
Burning,
Disputing for the last thing that remains.
LAUGHTER
I hold things
until I can give them a name
but what will it be called
that vertigo that grips me when looking at the starry sky?
I rush with my eyes, when I look at it,
that taste of emptiness,
to the fall of the world,
If only I could go to the moon and ask for what I lost to be returned.
30
Hummingbird
Memory on fire.
Invade.
It disappears.
Caresses me.
And it makes me smile.
A WINTER NIGHT IN BUENOS AIRES
Lamar drinks quietly a sour bourbon of oblivion
His gaze now lost in the horizon of the night
Hides his deepest scars
of love.
Right from his table he watches the pianist
that touches the air without emotion,
31
Hummingbird
touches the keys of a forgotten piano
with gawky skinny fingers.
At the back of the salon
there’s a French girl crying
accompanied by an old guitar
and holding a mate, waiting.
Lamar looks at her through the cigarette smoke
to say softly as only he can
“...one day you will understand... Robbie has left us forever.”
WHEELBARROW
In the wooden wheelbarrow
Santa gave me at Christmas ’75
I gathered all my toys
and went to the backyard
to be happy
on the ground floor.
32
Hummingbird
By my side,
a hummingbird
drank the nectar
of a red Chinese rose.
An angel
sat in front of us
looked at the bird and smiled
with his ocean-blue eyes.
I tried to touch him
but my hands
Couldn’t meet his body
they went right through him.
He got closer to me and whispered
“Can I play with the wheelbarrow too?”
DIRTY OLD MAN
It was not Camus nor Harry Potter nor Kafka
And I loved all them three.
It was Bukowski
and his drunk poetry.
When I first read one of his books
it dazzled me even more
33
Hummingbird
than that time when I discovered
This marker with diffused ink
My sister got for her birthday.
It was a spell.
With a set of words, my life hurt less.
That sunken dagger that Camus began to pull out,
The same that Kafka began to heal,
Bukowski started to built on top.
With my Latin American hands
I turned the pages,
with hungriness,
thirstiness,
and gluttony.
A classmate at school once asked me, disdainfully,
“Bukowski is your bedside writer? It cannot be."
She couldn’t see
that he wasn't just a drunken old womanizer,
he could just -with a couple of words-
take the lint
out of your
belly button
and more.
He was a swan in a world of consumption,
34
Hummingbird
he knew how to dance on a verse,
he could charm butterflies,
he could make rhyme without rhymes.
But most of all:
he gave me a safe place,
some pride,
and a voice.
I didn't believe in God
But I did in Poetry.
Bukowski fabricated faith.
AND I THINK GOD,
ALSO BELIEVED IN HIM.
DANDELION
A misguided firefly
flies in the morning
seeking to light his lair
but the sun dazzles her
and she cannot find it.
As she comes and goes,
the raspberry,
it's already a fruit.
I look at her and I'm late.
35
Hummingbird
I like to be late.
It's good.
Francisco shows me a nest of squirrels,
He tells me about the plants and flowers
that he finds interesting.
we twined, amazed,
looking at a stem
or a dandelion.
He has so much to teach me.
he is an angel and lives in "somewhere",
I am his father and I live here,
Will there be more fantastic plants in “somewhere"?
INDELIBLE INK
I plucked a clover and threw it in the air
while a cloud of uncertainty floats:
will it be sunny today or will it be cloudy.
over our heads the odds.
Somewhere a carp fish dies
I close my eyelids
for these ideas to go away,
death
is the
wound of the soul
that does not heal.
36
Hummingbird
Meanwhile the sun rises,
it's not a cloudy day
and I hear the birds sing.
I come back,
I return to the point where my sunflower murmured
speechless
love issues.
My face, then, lights up,
the sun dazzles me
and thus prevent me from swimming in tears.
In me I carry the sweetest flower,
painted in indelible ink.
Midnight
I closed the door,
I fled,
to that world
in which the distance is less cruel.
This world in which you are always with me
fluttering around.
I closed the door,
Outside my dogs are barking,
while the sun goes down,
And the echo of the night begins.
I closed the door
And this desert begins to fill with water,
37
Hummingbird
with color,
with things,
with you.
We are close,
without touching each other,
I see you.
We have the same wound
But your insides are massive,
much more than mine.
My little sunflower,
you taught me how to draw you with my eyes
and I look at you
And I speak to you.
I hear your heartbeat
Along with mine
We are beating this together.
Now you shine,
You are no longer on fire,
You are flying through the calmness of the midnight sky.
38
Hummingbird
ON A CLOUD
I see you
in the squirrels,
in some little birds,
in Saint Anthony Ladybugs.
I feel you
in the wind,
in the sunbeams,
in some songs when we dance together.
I touch you
in the water,
on a soft leaf,
on flat and corrugated surfaces.
39
Hummingbird
I hear you
in the sound of the night,
in my quiet home,
in the stillness of the soul.
I hold you up,
I sing to you,
I know you are here, I feel you close.
I speak to you,
I cry
Even closer than when,
I could really
take you
for a walk.
WHEN I FLY
What will become of us tomorrow?
What will become of the days?
of the hours?
Of the days and the nights
Of the moonlight and the sunlight
Of the man who crosses through the middle of the road
And suddenly the sky starts to fall?
What will become of the end of that pencil
bitten over and over again?
To that house in the fog,
to the dawn that interrupts with violence the sleep?
What will become of the nightfall that brings insomnia and weep?
40
Hummingbird
And what will happen when this book is over
and we are left alone and naked
without any help?
Will I ever see you again?
Or maybe not?
WINTER WARMTH
And next the night dies Plus the poetry comes out With my TV on.
My fingers choose a bad series to watch, Outside, a squirrel jumps from branch to
branch. And I want to caress her,
tell her that it will be a good day.
But she already knows it.
I'm still me
I make myself a coffee
I look out through the window Not watching my Netflix series:
I need words
to inhabit
This joy ride that haunts me, my new habit.
Far off The Death.
Outside,
the sun twinkles at me.
41
Hummingbird
I want to hug him
but he cuddles me with his winter warmth
And I smile at him.
YOUR FACE
Wretched
Awakening
between tears,
clothes on
and wrinkled sheets.
Inappropriate
my strong
bones.
Atrocious
Awakening
Between the wonders of your love
and the sores of your absence.
Thick skin,
sleepy
over the Sea.
Because sleeping is
going to swim
and coming back.
42
Hummingbird
Vile
the Time
that separates us.
And your face.
AND YOUR FACE.
That tells me to be patient.
WE HAVE
ETERNITY.
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Hummingbird
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Hummingbird
Other titles
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