Equally equal

Commonest details, 
nuance mottled, 
grandest feelings
tiny ones et al...
In this one life 
some twenty fingers; 
in this one life enough words, ten:

“born”, “raised”, “come”,
“sad”, “happy”, “gone”, 
“way” how many times? —
“Love” once? 
No, twice!—.

Commonest details, 
nuance mottled, 
And that final word, 
clear to us all, 
despite being singular 
truly cumbersome... 
Right here I won’t say
that word, shoo!

I’m not going to say it here 
though it may be a leash, 
—yanking at all our necks 
sweet or feverish—, 
since we can’t run 
away from it, 
“maybe” and “equal”
 the two are “the same”; 
“Maybe” and “equal,” 
the same...

REX IPE EX ERIP 
RIP EXE EPIX IRE 
IXEPER PEXIRE 
EPRIXE IXEPRE

PESHIR SHE RIP
SHIP ER RIP SHE 
PISH ER SHIP ER 
RIPESH PESHIR
DE THA THE DA 
DATHE THEAD 
TEADH DHAET 
DAHET TEHDA

Not that word, I won’t say it...

(Translated by Elizabeth Macklin and Maite Larburu) 

Krak (*Zart, 2021)

A-Long-Side-D River

I love long-term wishes and goals,
so long... that I know
I will fulfill them not.

I love making long-term travel plans,
so long... that I guess
I will never get to that land.

I love you, long-term mate,
for so long... that I don't know
if you are a lover or a friend.

I have thrown a long river
from what I love
towards what I love.
A long, long, long river
so when I sink
I will still know 
where I go.

A long river...

I love long-term love affairs
'cause they leave no stains,
-and no fixed patterns-.

I love long-terms discussions
until no one is right
-or we both are wrong-.

I love long-term wounds
until they look like
question-mark tattoos.

I have thrown a long river
from what I love
towards what you love.
A long, long, long river
so when I sink
I will still know
where I go.

A long river...

Written with Maite Larburu (Hezurren azpian, 2019) 

We Became just the Same

An octopuss in a garage.
A wrench floating in a bath tub.
The Promised Land
once arrived, seems dull.

What you secretly desire
when achieved is nothing but past.
Welcome to the club,
it will be both happy and sad.

It wasn't our vocation
but it was our fate.
It wasn't our aim
but we became just the same...

Green dogs, green dogs...

Kermit the frog sung in Sesame Street
it ain't easy being green...
Poor him if he were a green haired mammal, just think!

What do you want that green dog for?
She gets lost on every lawn!
Welcome to the club, girl,
the door is always unlocked, yeah!

It wasn't our vocation
but it was our fate.
It wasn't our aim
but we became just the same...

They didn't exist on Planet Earth
but we became just the same:
almost empowered
(not us; it is the world which is bothered!).
With no chlorophyll in our veins,
undyed hair, 
we may not last forever,
but we still may;
with no fruit to bear,
no applause at our show's end,
we are what we always were:
fearless, fearless, fearless...

Green dogs, green dogs...

I am a green dog 
and I'm proud of my emerald nose:
we are going to be more and more!
Green dog, I salute you, bro!

An octopuss in a garage.
A wrench floating in a bath tub.
The princess of the sewer's mud.

It ain't easy being green,
having to spend each day the color of the leaves.
I wonder why but... why wonder?

I am  green.

Written with Maite Larburu (Hezurren azpian, 2019) 

Safety Pin

You are a cat somewhat
but not a chain, 
you don't deserve
the bad name 
of what is chained.
To unchain yourself
makes you a whole:
you get opened
and your eye sees more.

You walk on your own,
all alone,
but not against,
just quiet, content.
My chain link,
in your eye's blink,
my treasures get pinned,
safe is my wish;
tied to a pocket
or to a gown,
by the other
and by your own body bound.

I ought to have 
a handful of you
to remember
what to keep and what to lose...
You blush at nothing,
paper rose,
joy attached 
to my buttonhole:
open and close,
as sharp as a hedgehog.

Opened, you're
a wounding sword;
closed, a blunt object
asking for a cuddle.
I carry you in here,
I caress you, dear:
open and close
good morning or bye bye...
"my safety pin,
let's hold each other tight"...

You are blushed at nothing,
paper rose,
joy attached 
to my buttonhole:
open and close,
sharp hedgehog.

You are a cat somewhat
but not a chain, 
you don't deserve
the bad name
of what is chained.
To unchain yourself
makes you a whole.

Hezurren azpian (Gaztelupeko Hotsak, 2019) 

Lover in a Suitcase

You are the lover in a suitcase
in love with your lovely-lovely sweetcase.

You have heard 
there is a mandala
and there you go, inshala:
it was warmer up in your attic
and besides, there was no traffic.

The world keeps turning that way
madly loud and hastier each day.

There's no sinking in our trip,
we scratch landscapes very thin,
water-drawned quay,
wounded air,
beginning and end...
beginning and end.

You do as you can
as the lover in a suitcase;
in fact, what is a lover?
Your next stop-over.

Loneliness is a hill
you can climb and descend at will,
just turn your arms like a wheel
and be a flying mill...

There's no sinking in our trip,
we scratch landscapes very thin,
water-drawned quay,
wounded air,
beginning and end...
beginning and end.

You are the suitcase in a lover,
your guts are pulled and turned over,
he on wheels, 
and you...
share his skin.
Doing your best
is quite great;
but great is not enough yet,
and that sting... has a sharp edge.
Lover in a suitcase
in love with her lovely sweetcase.
When packing,
who of you two is exhausted?
Fitting things together hurts bad:
you pack your suitcase 
while you get undone.

You forget something in every bed,
you are the bare matrass's dress.

There's no sinking in our trip,
we scratch landscapes very thin,
water-drawned quay,
wounded air,
beginning and end...
beginning and end.

Hezurren azpian (Gaztelupeko Hotsak, 2019)