What Sparks Poetry is a serialized feature that explores experiences and ideas that spark the writing of new poems. In Ecopoetry Now, poets from Canada, Mexico, and the US engage in an ecopoetic conversation across borders. Each Monday's delivery brings you a poem from the author and an excerpt from their essay.
 Rocío Cerón
Translated from the Spanish by Dallin Law

(A song at mid journey, with a sooty, mud-splattered face)

[Fissure. Expansion from the nuclear—cocoon. Flight and sprain. At the end, a succession of blows. Footfalls. Constellation of footprints leading over the top, inside.

Don’t give up, the cooled lava floor gives rise to jungle.

Flailing arms, thirst, a slash. Four bodies laid on forest carpet. Skin laid on metal at twenty degrees Celsius.

Pull the man’s arm—field of wheat adjoining pastures.

Pull his right arm—drainage, falling into a well.

Footfalls.

Mutable body. Above, a vision of rectangles (red, the system of shapes is devastatingly cadmium). The smoke belongs to the first episode: blow, wheat field, perfect mouthful.

Pull his hair—a celebration of leaden mornings.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. And not eating pork not eating meat not eating dairy not eating processed food not eating genetically modified corn. Not eating.

Expansion from the clot outward—sutured wound, elegiac prayer for blood. Body calmed by a gifted hand. Footfalls.

Pausing at the watering trough, liquid light. Pull the tumor out of this burning man’s trachea—field of lavender, dandelion seeds blown over pebbles of skin.

Pronounce the wind a psalm: The black sun nights will return, then adopting the name of madness will only mean a slow interstellar drift. Footfalls.

Fissure. A sprout of speech and a needle. Material and roofing tiles on the floor. That flower. That grass. Those fleeting folds of skin.

Don’t give in, intonation becomes audible in those woods.

Breath or a chest about to burst. Fjord. Murmurs of the grammage, passing boiling lavender fields. Radiance over lands smelling of their distance (warm wind, cedars, blackcurrants and redcurrants on the tongue, fleeting note of figs and nuts between wisps of steam; tobacco). Twisting.

Foot set on the overhang.

Pull the man’s arm, save his body enveloped in flames—plains, engraved flint.

In this land no one mourns. A transformation of birds. Roundness in fruit. Starry knife edge for slitting a throat, blood, spurt of iron, lipids—a cloak one wears to return to life.

Remain spring sprinkling well downpour. Remain footprint drainage sacrifice. Remain sand mountains geiser Mid-Atlantic ridge. Remain grace and violence. Remain.]

To Teodoro Flores Rodríguez

 

Efnistöku

(Canto a mitad de ruta con rostro cubierto de tizne y légamo)

[Fisura. Lo expansivo desde lo nuclear —capullo. Vuelo y torcedura. Al término, un golpe y otro. Pisadas. Constelación de huellas sobre, al interior.

No cejes, del piso de lava petrificada surgirá la selva.

A braceos, en la sed, un tajo. Cuatro cuerpos sobre tapete arbóreo. Piel sobre metal a veinte grados centígrados.

Jala el brazo del hombre —campo de trigo junto a pastizales.

Jala el brazo derecho del hombre —drenaje, caída a pozo.

Pisadas.

Cuerpo mutable. Encima visión de los rectángulos (rojos, el sistema de formas es devastadoramente cadmio). El humo corresponde al primer episodio: golpe, trigal, bocado perfecto.

Jala el cabello del hombre —celebración de mañanas plomizas.

Una manzana al día mantiene alejado al médico. No comer cerdo no comer carne no comer lácteos no comer alimentos procesados no comer maíz transgénico. No comer.

Lo expansivo desde el grumo —sutura de la herida, responso de sangre. Cuerpo aquietado por don de mano. Pisadas.

Detenerse en el abrevadero, luz líquida. Jala el tumor de la tráquea de este hombre que arde —campo de lavanda, dientes de león en vuelo entre guijarros de piel.

Pronuncia el viento un salmo: Volverán las noches de sol negro, entonces llamarse locura será sólo andar lentamente entre estrellas. Pisadas.

Fisura. Brote de voz y aguja. Materia y tejas de casa al piso. Esa flor. Esa hierba. Esos pliegues fugaces de piel.

No pierdas la voluntad, en ese bosque será perceptible la entonación.

Soplo o estallido en pecho. Fiordo. Rumores del gramaje, lavanda hirviendo al paso. Resplandor sobre tierras con olor a lejanía (aire caliente, cedros, casis y grosella a labio, breve nota de higo y nueces entre hilos de vapor; tabaco). Torcedura.

Pie posado en saledizo.

Jala el brazo del hombre, salva su cuerpo envuelto en llamas
—planicies, pedernales labrados.

En esta tierra no hay luto. Devenir de aves. Redondez en el fruto. Borde de astro en cuchillo que hiende sobre garganta, sangre, borbotón de hierro, lípidos —manto para vivir de nuevo.

Permanece garúa manantial aguacero pozo. Permanece huella drenaje sacrificio. Permanece arena montañas géiser dorsal mesoatlántica. Permanece gracia y violencia. Permanece.]

To Teodoro Flores Rodríguez

from the book BOREALIS / Fondo de Cultura Económica 
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Red on black cover of Rocio Ceron's book, Borealis
What Sparks Poetry:
Rocío Cerón (Mexico City) on Ecopoetry Now 

"Language and nature are an ancient binomial that has reinforced the physicality between the world we inhabit and how we inhabit naming it. The power of the bird is not only its chirp and trill, but the richness of its name which alters our lips in pronouncing it: albatross, kestrel, blackbird, screech owl, flycatcher, vireo, thrush, golden tanager."
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