Hummingbird

HUMMINGBIRD

Matias Sayko

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 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.

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 Hummingbird

PATAGONIA

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.

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 Hummingbird

RAINBOW

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.

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 Hummingbird

UNTAMABLE

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.

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 Hummingbird

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.

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.

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 Hummingbird

THE BODY

In his light
I listen how the secret spreads
from an impossible distance:
I talk about him
as of events that happened
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.

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 Hummingbird

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

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.

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 Hummingbird

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

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.

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 Hummingbird

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
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.

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 Hummingbird

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.
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.

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 Hummingbird

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
Except for hummingbirds and fairy godmothers.

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 Hummingbird

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
Pawn signs

The eye is our ear.

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 Hummingbird

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
That makes the Earth rotate.

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 Hummingbird

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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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?

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 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?

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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 Hummingbird

Literature is my rescue
My Resurrection

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.

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 Hummingbird

EYELID

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

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 Hummingbird

and occupies the same place.

Eyes that do not forget.

Time.
And a little place to chat.

INFINITE NUMBER FLOOR

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.

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 Hummingbird

NO TITLE NUMBER 4

I woke up and the exorbitant water falls from the sky like the ladies fall on the side-
walks.

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.

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 Hummingbird

LOCKED

I'm talking about a way

In which not finding conversation with himself,
immerses entirely in the midnight of his being.

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.

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 Hummingbird

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.

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.

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 Hummingbird

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,
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.

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 Hummingbird

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.

Memory on fire.
Invade.
It disappears.
Caresses me.
And it makes me smile.

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 Hummingbird

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,

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.”

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 Hummingbird

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.

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

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 Hummingbird

“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

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,

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 Hummingbird

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,

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.

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 Hummingbird

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.

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"?

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 Hummingbird

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.

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.

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 Hummingbird

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,
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.

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 Hummingbird

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.

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 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.

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.

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 Hummingbird

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?

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?

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 Hummingbird

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.
I want to hug him
but he cuddles me with his winter warmth

And I smile at him.

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 Hummingbird

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.

Vile
the Time
that separates us.

And your face.

AND YOUR FACE.

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 Hummingbird

That tells me to be patient.

WE HAVE
ETERNITY.

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 Hummingbird

Other titles

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