Mi Lu mi lubidulia mi golocidalove mi lu tan luz tan tu que me enclucielabisma y
descentratelura y venusafrodea y me nirvana el suyo la crucis los desalmes con sus
melimeleos sus eropsiquisedas sus decúbitos lianas y dermiferios limbos y gormullos
mi lu mi luar mi mito demonoave dea rosa mi pez hada mi lubisita nimia mi lubísnea
mi lu más lar más lampo mi pulpa lu de vértigo de galaxias de semen misterio mi
lubella lusola mi total lu plevida mi toda lu lumía.
Lumia means prostitute. But the referent almost does not *matter* here. What is of import is a different causal chain happening on the material surface of the language. One of my favorites is the transference of mi nirvana over to me nirvana; it becomes active as a verb. Splicing, like in Huidobro, but also a visual re-reading of bodies. I am not sure what we end up with here, but it is no mechanistic portrayal (as in naturalism) of a prostitute. Girondo is wonderful to read for vibrant causality where causes produce unexpected mysterious results.
Often the charge of anthropomorphism et al are charged to authors that dwell too much on the human. Are we not also guilty of this as readers? I have made the comment elsewhere, regarding Lezama Lima, that if we were to actually try to reconstruct a human face out of some anthropomorphic descriptors it would not look so human, but rather would mutate into another being. Reading (and not reception) would have it that powers might not only flow out from the human actor in a text.
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