from Someone Must Be Called Twilight (for Carlos Ramírez)
by Jaime Saenz

Many times searching without being able to find you, the twilight would
surprise me in the hour of your eyes
Many times I forgot you, wanted to forget myself and remember, and
remembered I had to forget you,
thinking of you for the very reason I didn’t want to remember you
—the twilight would surround me at such times, I remember it perfectly.
I confused you with the twilight confusing myself with you;
you confused me with the twilight confusing yourself with me,
and you and I confused ourselves with the twilight which confused you in me and
me in you,
confusing with you what was confused in me to confuse with me what was
confused in you.
And many times in the same person there was a confusion of twilight, you and
me,
and many more each confused with three other distinct persons,
adding up to nine altogether, which is to say, zero.

And there was no such person called twilight,
or, to tell the truth, no person not called twilight,
except those called you and I, who nevertheless could not keep from calling each
other twilight.

Kabir thing:

There is nothing but water in the holy pools.
I know, I have been swimming in them.
All the gods sculpted of wood or ivory can’t say a word.
I know, I have been crying out to them.
The Sacred Books of the East are nothing but words.
I looked through their covers one day sideways.
What Kabir talks of is only what he has lived
through.
If you have not lived through something, it is not
true.