latephilosophers writings page

Love

There is between sun and desire an affinity that
cuts off all motions not related to that caused on
the surface of the sea by the volitions of an
unknown, omniscient god. Between desire and sun
takes place the quotidian copulation of sand and
surf. The sun keeps a secret alliance with madness
and desire, an alliance that bares itself slowly once
the star sets behind the islands. The sun, its light
always invisible, always propitiating delirious
visions, introduces, every morning it rises above
the sleepy horizon, a center of blindness, of
imperfect lucidity, of temptation and lust, of times
and rhythms that have, and covet, the smell of
tropical fruits, of exuberant jungles, and of weeds
which grow without rhyme or reason, with innocent
passion, between the legs of lovers, in the pores
glowing with sweat, and under lights which darken
everything under their protection.
The desire provoked by the sun in everything that
lives far exceeds the desire provoked by water in
everything that is green. It embraces both the living
and the green in such an incommensurable way that
it can break the violence with which a drowning
man gasps for air. Between the sun and its
accomplice, desire, there is no seam, not a
hesitating instant. They cannot be isolated; one
cannot exist without the other. There is only one
force that although strong enough to shatter the
union between desire and sun (a spring seeking to
burst through the rocks, from one body to
another), nonetheless lends itself to the endurance
of their bond—love. Sun and desire are one under
the spell of love, and because of it. Between the
sun and desire there is a movement, a reciprocal
love, which ends in excess, in overabundance: a
flood, sprawling water, explosive water, strong,
live, fearless, surprising, ubiquitous—like a love.

Harrison Mujica-Jenkins

Night

Poetry is eternity; the sun matched
with the sea.

-Bataille,

Erotism

Night: ignorant of order, chaotic erasure
of the outlines light forces upon things.
At night teacups grow mad, hair strands
and tree branches twist like wires.
Nights, some clear, some dark (perverse
thoughts), surround things embracing
them, making fire and hummingbirds
rhyme, spiders and eyes.
In the night footsteps become street-
monsters thirsting for light, and wooden
doors creak in the children's hearts, and
arms hide like forbidden love in other
arms.
Night shelters a passion in terror, pouring
fear and loneliness in the body. It takes
care of a dying fire, illuminates the eyes
of a cat in wait, and transforms the
flickering flame of a candle into birds
aflutter on a wall.
Tonight birds are leaves and leaves are
worms woven in the wind. Tonight all the
capricious ways of Nature lead to an orgy
of mutations.
Nights at once set ablaze and extinguish
the gaze in light-seeking eyes.
Night drags evil by the ears with the force
of an instinct.
Some nights propitiate a masquerade in
which the world dresses up in the
garments of desires—excess of fleeting
silhouettes, perpetual bacchanal of images
in mirrors that are flowing rivers. Other
nights bid their last farewell in uniform,
like a well-behaved child in front of his
father, in silence, under a veil of rain.
And yet tonight’s night has become
nocturne and allowed for writing, lover
next to lover, its self inside us its home.

Harrison Mujica-

enkins