Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

George Mario Angel Quintero

My hallucinations

My hallucinations
Flower and scatter.
Daedalus spits
Into a thimble
Before breakfast.
He awakes alone.
His body, a labyrinth.
Something grows, feeds.
Metastasis in irises.

Nostalgia slices.
I become a worm
Looking through what’s dead
For the radiant membrane,
For the pulp in the thigh,
Like an orchard where
Fruit pulls down branches.
Being lost is also
A kind of flying.
At least at first.

My hallucinations

Mis alucinaciones
Florecen y se riegan.
En un dedal escupe
Dédalo en ayunas.
Amanece a solas.
Laberinto, su cuerpo.
Algo crece, come.
Metástasis en lirios.

La nostalgia rebana.
Me he vuelto gusano
Que busca en lo muerto
La radiante membrana,
La pulpa de un muslo,
Como un huerto donde
Fruta tumba a rama.
Estar perdido también
Es asunto de volar.
Por lo menos, en los
Primeros momentos.
Close

My hallucinations

My hallucinations
Flower and scatter.
Daedalus spits
Into a thimble
Before breakfast.
He awakes alone.
His body, a labyrinth.
Something grows, feeds.
Metastasis in irises.

Nostalgia slices.
I become a worm
Looking through what’s dead
For the radiant membrane,
For the pulp in the thigh,
Like an orchard where
Fruit pulls down branches.
Being lost is also
A kind of flying.
At least at first.

My hallucinations

My hallucinations
Flower and scatter.
Daedalus spits
Into a thimble
Before breakfast.
He awakes alone.
His body, a labyrinth.
Something grows, feeds.
Metastasis in irises.

Nostalgia slices.
I become a worm
Looking through what’s dead
For the radiant membrane,
For the pulp in the thigh,
Like an orchard where
Fruit pulls down branches.
Being lost is also
A kind of flying.
At least at first.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère