Gustavo Alberto Garcia Vaca
Ping
dark, and fire
this, the outlet
this, the media
an intricate immediacy
the murmuring woods
the owls in the aether
the cataracts of endless, unknown currents
ascending vaporous ledges
lightning rising from the east
upward in the intermittent sky
sinking stars
accosted continents
flailing forests
transfigurations
threshold
the shallow river / the gold-bug / the sycamore trees
chasms
climbing, clinging
caution – across the other peak, the ruins of an abandoned structure and its clarified voices
Ariachne
all inside
they say that we are all inside of the labyrinth
and that the labyrinth extends across the width of the Earth,
that we are all trapped within the labyrinth’s high walls, with no way out
they say It will always see us,
with Its darkened vision
they say It will continue to feed on us, into Eternity,
until we are all devoured by the monster that was spawned
from the abyss of our emotions
they say that this plane of existence
is an extrapolation of Daedalus’ failed construction
and that we are all doomed to walk these innumerable winding pathways
until It finds us,
until the inevitable destruction of what we call ourselves –
“rational”
and
“aware”
but I know there is more –
more to this twisting land than what we can see,
more to what It feels,
more behind Its eyes
I know there is purity inside of It
I know because we are born of the same womb,
we are of the same blood,
but Its eyes are not like mine –
It sees only confusion in stone and mirrors,
It sees only winding, dim endlessness
I see light across the labyrinth
I sense waves beyond the echoing chambers
I know this gold,
this brightened thread,
is the solution
I know that It can be lured into the light
and that It will walk,
on its many limbs, following this thread
into the reality beyond Its violent, dysmorphic dreams
And Its eyes will be illuminated
by the shattered impossibility of Its own existence
Dissolution
After a blankness –
five phosphorescent circles sift from out of the sky
The world seems to be renewed
and from its distant wastes and dark places,
a flow of colours –
charged by the five phosphorescent circles
And the carven rims of those glowing circles enshroud us
Distances are now reflected,
time is refracted,
ice sheets dissolve
and transform
the planet into a vast abyss
A pit,
a maelstrom – unnamable, unsearchable
An isolated point
in a formless infinity
Through noxious air and piercing wind, twilights flail
Within blurring luminosities of the abyss –
words,
language itself,
crumbling
The miasma of utterances,
disembodied ideas,
vaporous intentions –
dissolving,
dissolving…