THE OCEAN’S SESSION Atlantic , July 1982

A space between quarter and full moons,
solstice of day and night,
culminations of Sun.

Monotonous
distancing of land everyday life,
closing on extra polar phantasy,
which spreads like space
in the degenerated scale of the ocean.

There is no time,
the only thing moving is a set of clock faces,
celestial spheres
of moons and their orbits
in a non symmetrical universe.

At the sea there are no systems of time calculation!
Solar calculations and lunar calendars,
systems dividing time into intervals-
it is an absurd!

Useless expressions-
in the right time,
or just in time.

As what kind of time is this?
Noon, evening or morning?

No point to put off the evil hour
as all his time is
only a crack in space.

No terrain orientation,
as there is no terrain.

There is nothing
except distancing.

Chronometry fails.








EVENING Atlantic, July 1982

Evening wakes up a desire to possess
bigger than other times of the day.

Earth,
rolls across the zone of Sun,
untouched and reigning.

Light precipitates imperceptibly,
sea ripples inertially-
huge and open.

It has always inspired awe,
of its latent, pulsing force
dependent upon the energy circle order,
cycles and phases of the moon,
planet course
…..and the whole series of distant transformations,
reaching the overheated steam
and the hot solutions of the beginning.

In a cosmic stirrer,
internally coordinated
and enforcing her movement
while crossing
between falling of the Sun
and approach of celestial sphere
it can be seen
that Earth gets stuck in the galaxy’s grip
on an invisible yoke shaft of a gyroscope.
Like a cotton candy.
The past
is dragging behind the vessel
like a ripped fisherman’s dredge.

Moon illuminates the outskirts of fear
and like a white larva
trails before the ship’s bow.

How many times has he asked himself
is this life for him?
Doesn’t it leak between fingers
the time of a different light
which remains unknown to him?