Sap (Surrealist Poem) Poem by Mihaela Pirjol

Erected snakes the tongues of the plants,
succulent verdure: the Secretion of Nature:
juices—the sap of life.
Gelatinous aloe vera, porcupine-cacti,
traces of slow mucous snails salivating,
dried in the sun—translucent flakes, rainbows
curving with the voluptuousness of the serpents
elevating the venom in split-tongued heads,
serpentining towards the sky. Piercing claws
in the crust of the mountain, slippery
in the avalanche of frozen spume.

Mountains and forests rising from the pots:
pots and gardens of the Gardener:
pots of thyme, parsley, sage, rosemary,
basil, lemon-balm, mint:
minty the memories of mind;
potential perfume satisfying appetites.

I drink the sap of plants through my consciousness,
where they meet: there at the Focal of the Eye
inside the mind, whence they erupt and expand
throughout the electrical circuit,
and I walk, I levitate, and then I float…and float,
and I flow—and flow into the firmament, fevered
in the sap of my blood, fluid in undulations,
with my cranium sphere orbiting with the spheres and stars,
and I roll-and-roll on the planets,
round-and-round on my abdomen:
rolling on the Spheres of Eternity!

And I climb towards the summit of the Cosmic Pyramid,
and walk on Earth holding the Moon on my left palm,
and the dawning Sun on my right palm:
me and my dark shadow elongating
above the fields and meadows, rocks and cliffs;
across the ultra-marine Mediterranean Sea
in an ambiance of echoes, of chirping birds,
babbling waters: exuberant! I float—and I float
like helium balloons floating in the clearest cupola of the sky,
and as in a dream, I think…
I would like to live like this for a thousand years!

Subtle shudders of ecstasy in spasms of anticipation,
prognostication of love, constantly present here:
inside my being, as my second shadow,
that you may appear before my real eyes:
no more in those of my mind!
in your fluidity of love, long, long loved…
with long golden hair whirling in the wind
of golden sunrays…

Sweet enchantment, delight for my eyes,
pulsating love ever renewed through my veins!
Splendour of song humming on the harp of my heart:
chords of musical infinity!
Primal joy of childish innocence:
What are you, which make my life a diabolical heaven?

Hopefully, not the infestation of the libidinous vulgarity,
obscene with animal hunger: the phallic hardness of blood,
the muscle of the grave, the gravity of mortality.
Bifurcate tongues, lewd language, words sticky as snails,
sonic-trails reverberating, polluting the atmosphere:
disgusting taste of bitterness.

The flight between the body and the spirit:
the fluids and the Ether: such contrast in the wholeness of existence!
Such vomiting of disappointment: we are too human
to pretend otherwise, too animal to be humane,
too human to be ethereal—hybridity;
too basic to be evolved: the passion is carnal,
the dream is lust, the earth is animal: too animal to be human!

The shivers are spinal; the tremors are carnal rage,
fantasies are copulation: there is nothing divine in human—
only the animal: the self-adorned human lubricated
for copulation—the Sap of Penetration and Perpetuation: the animal.

There is no pride in being human, only shame;
a simple orgy of senses, a slave to the senses,
a pretended affection, a temporary inflammation of blood
doomed to disgrace, scrutinising the possibility of pairing:
a discrepancy, a primal hunger, a primal urge,
a primal seminal sap, a Satyr, a camouflaged animal
horny as a bull: a vertical masculinity of false supremacy!