LICHENS Poem by Carlos de Oliveira

I

Somewhere,
in memory's
coldest
corner
but clear-cut
like a square centimeter
of snow
that begs
from inner frozenness
its very light,
a landscape
of lichens
rises up,


II

the slow workings
of metamorphosis
between the algae
and the poisonous
bell jar
of the toad stool
[protosponge
engorged
in caverns,
in acidic shadows],
cryptogamic
sleep
incapable of dreaming
the shaping of a flower


III

right there
upon the clarity
so intensely vitrified
by memory
that it seems to come from
an infra-childhood
the sudden
square centimeter
of snow and light
where the lichens rise up
now
monomicro-
cryptomaniac,


IV

meticulous
in the dampness
that they make
di
lut
ing in it,
and it
for its part
excretes them
slowly
in each
exhalation
[more each moment
than before]


V

so similar
in the scale
of this book
to the meticulous
respiration [?]
of slime
producing
not flowers
but more slime,
sleep as well
dreamless
spreading
through the transparency
of the water:


VI

this is how
the gradual
eclipse
over the square
centimeter that
the lichens
cover
in memory
comes to pass,
this is how
light and snow
hide themselves
bit by bit, this is how
all is forgotten.