Especímenes funcionales Números Letras Hipótesis refutadas Nos miramos entre nosotros ante la prueba que se dilata El método correcto Los partes necesarias - Lengua Muerta
A slight shock, a birth into torn silk, I found myself lying again beside a river which washed wood shavings and chips of tanned skin towards the brine of the Atlantic sea.
In the caves of the earth I could feel the rustle of thieves heaping their treasures, beneath my skin stirred counterfeiters, heating iron rods to mint coins bearing effigies of the dead. I no longer remembered Empire, nor its deceits; the landscape around me was desolate. No vegetation, but stone, stone and a few clouds.
All wealth seemed to have crawled into the bowels of the earth, from which burst forth voices, sounds of brawls rising to the rooftops....the air was heavy and impassible. Not at all troubled by the weight of my lungs, it engulfed me, this air which let no trace of its movements be marked by a bird.
Once I followed a slope on the side of the sun. I didn’t take long to get to the end of my voyage, pale at the foot of the slope. There candles were placed in broad daylight, like white mortuary flowers, burning timidly….there was no way to go further. I knew it without trying. I looked in the distance to find its red line again, a surgical mark on the belly of the earth, dividing it from the sky.
Now we gather our insults to forge diamonds. The weather now has the whiteness of wheat. Now we were forced to leave the town early. The laundry is already drying, bared to the sun. We had thrown all the keys into the pools, we were silent as a leaf, silent to hear the silk crackling its cloth of laughter, a laughter exploding under the hay and the hay sending up its tips to the sky.
We were the children of derision. No one could believe in our rule. The towns moved towards us. Each had its name, its love and its gifts. Each took shelter behind a dancing word, behind a living wolf. Each one burned with a secret fire. Each of our circuits is inscribed on the membranes of the air
Scattered young like a ruminating shell, gathered young like the deep punctures of pearls, stormy in my shift I never wait for myself:
I observe the light in the mirrors of the blind.
DIAGNOSIS (Leccion de Anatomia):
THE CHEST opens on the burning cross of the heart
THE SKIN sensitive as precious as THE EYE
THE HEAD and its hair of red nerves
THE ARTERIES always stretched out into discord
THE LUNGS the sky’s apples of air all filled up take us along
THE LEGS agile clairvoyant come to meet us
THE VERTEBRAL WATER is more limpid than the eyes’
THE HAIR and the eyelashes want not to meet
THE LIPS the cheeks the gums and the teeth the NECK
bears them up
THE TEMPLES the legs phosphorous and iron
Holding on to the wall, the NAILS
fold back THE WORDS
of your body go to your head
A thin stream of
THE WINGED BONES quicker than blood
A FULL BASKET of blue viscera HOT
the VEINS are easily sliced open
a people of humans and birds live in your tongue
THE WOUNDED EYE bleeds all its images
Leccion de Anatomia
curated by Trrueno and Underground Flower
w. Astrosuka, Ava Phen, Benjamín Felice, El Pelele, Golpe Erótico, Julián Solis Morales, Lola Orge Benech, Maja, Silvina Sícoli, Sofía Torres Kosiba, Sofja, Tea Strazicic, Torre Alain
Text: Lengua Muerta & Torre Alain