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#2113 -
I was born
once again
last night.
This time
in the shape of
Xolotl –
twin brother
of the Morning
Star.
The other died
a sudden death
neither peaceful
nor unpeaceful
as an ending.
It was sudden
without sorrow
or pain
sadness
or separation.
In the blink of an
eye
we can
change:
in truth
there is no way
but this
to our salvation.
Xolotl
who loves the deer
the eagle
the snake
is as one
with their pain
their triumph
their fate.
A new name
or duty
another
perspective.
a task …
to be seen
in hiding.
I will slip away
from you
snakesilently
if you cannot see
that.
An eye
hanging
over one cheek.
There is
companionship
under stones
in
the desert
the
best of company
without
envy
copulating
endlessly
without
lust
without
desire.
That lizard
blinked
an eye towards me
incredible
the energy
generated
and consumed
in the wild
each millisecond.
I am Xolotl
voice of the desert
forged
of the silver of
Venus
in verdant
I am a cloud
over Fódla
the evening star
that wakens Banba.
Who now
has been loved by
me
or who has been
wronged?
Come
to the ceremony
and to the
sacrament
of reparation.
Love
is rooted in me
like a cactus
now
my blood
is tequila.
In this year
of Our Lord
1992
I dedicate
myself
to the shade of
Come and
drink of me
and this
time
go
astray
let the caravels
all go astray
let them plough
the Milky Way
let Venus be
circumnavigated
let the sails be
filled
with cosmic
winds
weep then
sailors
in the doldrums
and may every
last tear fall
over all
the deserts
of the
in a downpour
of forgiveness.
I am Xolotl
I demand
this pilgrimage
for this universe
world
without end.
In the Aztec
calendar
see
how we
approach
the year
two thousand
and eleven
the proclamation
of the age of
justice.
Rejoice!
the heart
that was greedy
a cuckoo
let it rise
as an eagle
strong
majestic
watching
ceaselessly
without sleep
because now is the
time
of watchfulness
the time
for mothering
we must nurture
the world
the calf
suckling
its mother
do our lips
lie on one another
so that we can
suckle
no longer?
Pray then
for tenderness
and for tenderness
lay your finger
on your lips.
How liquid
the world is
at its centre
like
tequila
that keeps it
eternally
intoxicated
in its orbit
in its ancient dance.
I am Xolotl
to my extremities
I learned
to dance
to walk
on the ground
as the deer
treads
with reverence.
There is sanctuary
everywhere
and every part of
us
is sanctuary.
Who would raise
a hedge
or who
would destroy it?
Love
the smooth
stone
the pebble
the monolith.
Cherish
rocks
pyramids
bell towers
The stone
in the fruit
the acorn’s
kernel
water –
streams
a waterfall
a lake
great rivers
the ocean
cherish
them
with tears
of joy
renew
them.
Cherish
the
four corners.
Cherish
the north
frost bound
the south
where the sun
kisses
the stones.
Cherish
the rising
cherish the setting
sun.
I am Xolotl
the evening star
I see
all
of these
clear as the dew.
Let us stretch
on
dewy
ground.
Prostrate
let us taste
with our tongues
that nectar
that will revive
the ancient
tongues.
Words, also,
are stones
to be cherished
stones
are words.
The more complex
the grammar
the richer
the truer
the more layered
the utterance.
Let
language
come forth
from caves
from souterrains
from temples
from churches
from mosques
from synagogues
from ruins
come forth
from graves
let all tongues
come
down
up
east
west
north
south.
Let us proclaim
the congress
of all language
the lore
of birds
the poetry
of the people
the songs
of turtles
the slithery
stories
of eels.
I am Xolotl
at the beginning of
our journey.
All the native
women –
raped by the hombres
dios –
m’uilleagán
dubh ó –
of the
Nahua
Huastec
Olmec
Totonac
Mixtec
Zapatec
Otomi
Huichol
Cora
Zacatacan
Tarascan
I convey them as a
line of petals
to the sweat-house
– the temazcall.
And I will lie
in the ashes
through the winter
I will eat vermin.
I give you
burial
instructions:
bury your dead
as embryos
in the womb
as a token
that here is no end
but the
regeneration of the eternal
the head
towards the
southwest
for we will never
be separated
from the clay
that mothered us.
{An interlude in
which Quetzalcoatl speaks through me}
‘I have come
Over powerful
Waves
Through the mist
Of the magicians
As bird
As water-snake
From that island
Of woods
Of grass
Of shellfish
Of salmon
Of horses
Of
wolves
Of wild boar
Of heroes
Of epic poems
Of mountains
Of lakes
Of rivers
Of hills
Of valleys
Of chariots
Island of heather
Island of furze
Island of wise men
Island of gods
Island of bards
Banba
Fódla
Éire.
I was
Led
Astray –
Me, Quetzalcoatl
–
And I drank the
wine five times
I drank the wine
Laced with the
poison of toadstools
I called
On my own
Sister
And she drank, too,
five times
And I lay with her
–
Lay with my own
sister
Whose thighs were
stars
Whose breasts
Were moons
Shining
Through rain clouds
And I had to
For that heinous
act
Throw myself
On a sacrificial
fire
And my heart
Was consumed
So that I burn
Constantly
For all of you
As the Morning Star
… ’
Hey, traveller,
listen:
Ahuicpa tic huica –
that which
you carry you do
not
carry at all:
your heart!
it does not shine
through
your features
it is only
yollotl –
a muscle
that throbbing
thing
in your breast
that’s all
…
nurture
it
to be
a blossoming heart
–
yoltéotl!
Let your heart
beat
like the womb
of the ocean
at its deepest
the brightest foam
on its skin
like the shimmer
of stars
that will light
the long nights
of the traveller:
ixtli in yollotl –
every face a heart
and every heart a
face!
delicate as a
flower
durable as jade.
The flight of a
butterfly
on a summer day
is music for
strings.
let this concerto
that nobody hears
but Quetzalcoatl
be offered
to Him
to the Feathered
Snake.
The snail
moves
very slowly
up
to the top
of the temple
to view
for itself
the surrounding
plain.
Its slimy trail
is a prayer
heard
by no living being
but Quetzalcoatl.
Let Him
be offered
the congregation of
snails.
Quetzalcoatl
understands
the singing
of birds
morning
and evening
and understands it
is for Himself.
Let Him
be offered
the congregation
of birds.
I am Xolotl
whooping towards
the dawn
joyful
and parched
sated
and thirsty.
O golden sun
who nurtures corn
who is my nurture
my brother!
Creator
of rain
and drought
within me!
I am Xolotl
swelling towards
you
in your setting.
I search for
and illuminate
hearts
for You
so that
they may sense
their own
illuminative
madness
in You
on that marvellous
day
You recreate time.
Did I not share
the sacrifice
with you
did I not wound
my ears
and did I not
sprinkle
drops of blood
on the rekindled
fire?
I am Xolotl
who bestows once
again
ceremony.
And at the end
of the twelve years
did I not
excite the children
at
box their ears
for fear
they might
fall asleep
and turn
into mice
gnawing away
here and there
in eternal darkness
for fear
men
and women
would turn
into wild beasts?
II
Ometecuhtli holds
the seed …
the seers say
that the Lord
Divine –
Ometecuhtli –
lives in lofty
isolation.
In his hands there
is a drop of water
and in that tiny
drop
there is a single
green seed
and that is the
world for you
the wide earthly
world
placed in an ocean
…
Let no temple
be built to
Ometecuhtli
I tell you
but let him glow
in every hearth
let him stir
in every penis
in every womb
until death
when flesh
will be skinned
from bone
when the winds
will be knives
what a
scintillating jig
each skeleton will
dance then
with the Lord of
Death
Mictlantecuhtli
and his eternal
lover
Mictlantecihuatl.
Do not mourn the
children
who died before
their time
for they will
suckle
the Heavenly Tree
of Milk
before their return
to the world …
Neither mourn those
who drowned
and who repose now
like butterflies
in Tlalocan
constantly
giving praise to
the gods
in that soft rain
that begets
rainbows
at the earth’s
four corners.
Praise without end
to Tlaloc
and to his
bed-companion
Chalchihuitlicue
pure and green and
noble.
Neither mourn those
whose whole life
was sacrifice
for their people
for they will shine
brighter than
silver mist
over a lake
the multicoloured
plumage of birds
their headdress
messengers
between the sun
and the world
–
eagles their
escorts.
Keep flowers
in your houses
and take joy
in their perfume
–
but keep your
nostrils
away from their
tips
for that privilege
is not for you
but for the
butterflies
who are our guests
from afar.
Happy the one
on whom Venus
shines
in the morning.
Let him not delay
but let him prick
his ears
with a cactus
spike.
Let him place two
drops of blood
on two fingers
as an offering to
the stars.
Here is the proper
way
to treat
the sick:
set the patient before you
a statue of Quetzalcoatl
behind you.
Listen to the
symptoms
of the sickness.
Lay a bedspread
between you and the
patient.
Place a handful of corn grain
in
a shell
mixing
the dark
with
the light.
Then
throw them
on
the bedspread.
If one grain
lands on another
–
an immediate
recovery.
If they fall
an even distance
from one another
–
a slow
convalescence.
If, however, they fall
in separate groupings
the patient will depart
this life …
And let marigolds
be seen at All
Souls
to honour
the keeper of
relics
Xochiquetzal.
(Syójó)