27.6.16

Suzanne



Suzanne is waiting at your doorway
But all she does is waste your time
And she looks just like my sister
But she feels just like my man

And all the times I mean to tell her
The cats in here are over-flowin'
She pulls aside a four leaf clover
And makes me feel right on my own

Suzanne, Suzanne
Suzanne, Suzanne

Suzanne is waiting at your doorway
But all she does is waste your time
And she looks just like my sister
But she feels just like my man

Suzanne, Suzanne
Suzanne, Suzanne




Anne Sexton e o Verão de 48





Scrapbook da poeta Anne Sexton, em Virginia Beach, recém-casada.






26.6.16

Eileen Myles




The place I found was carved out of sadness and sex and to write a poem there you merely needed to gather. There would be days in which feelings were so externalized that you just behaved like a painter a kid with deep pockets, bringing the lavender home. The poem was a grid–that swayed and moving through it you just picked up things and hung them on the grid all the while singing your broken heart out. Humming. It was a deep deep grey. In that place (and poetry most of all is a mastery of places, not the world but the weather of the states that form in your life and what you read and how things were taken and what came back) each of these series of occurrences creates a season. The seasons grow huge (till they die) and in each you create a new sense of what a poem is in relation to the space of your mind, heart, that kind of substance.



The Honey Bear

Billie Holiday was on the radio
I was standing in the kitchen
smoking my cigarette of this
pack I plan to finish tonight
last night of smoking youth.
I made a cup of this funny
kind of tea I've had hanging
around. A little too sweet
an odd mix. My only impulse
was to make it sweeter.
Ivy Anderson was singing
pretty late tonight
in my very bright kitchen.
I'm standing by the tub
feeling a little older
nearly thirty in my very
bright kitchen tonight.
I'm not a bad looking woman

I suppose O it's very quiet
in my kitchen tonight I'm squeezing
this plastic honey bear a noodle
of honey dripping into the odd sweet
tea. It's pretty late
Honey bear's cover was loose
and somehow honey dripping down
the bear's face catching
in the crevices beneath
the bear's eyes O very sad and sweet
I'm standing in my kitchen O honey
I'm staring at the honey bear's face



Shhh

I don’t think
I can’t afford the time to not sit right down &
write a poem about the heavy lidded
white rose I hold in my hand
I think of snow
a winter night in Boston, drunken waitress
stumble on a bus that careens through
Somerville the end of the line
where I was born, an old man
shaking me. He could’ve been my dad.
You need a ride? Wait, he said.
This flower is so heavy in my hand.
He drove me home in his old blue
Dodge, a thermos next to me,
cigarette packs on the dash
so quiet like Boston is quiet
Boston in the snow. It’s New York
plates are clattering on St. Mark’s
Place. Should I call you?
Can I go home now
& work with this undelivered
message in my fingertips
It’s summer
I love you.
I’m surrounded by snow.


I think writing
is desire
not a form
of it.


Niina Pollari





Do You Feel Tenderness
When I went to the doctor
I forgot to take off my bra
She said "Oh! I'm sorry, I need to check
Your breast tissue"
Yes, I said, I'm so sorry

I had a hard time unclasping the hooks and eyes
I didn't look at the doctor, who was a new lady doctor
I met ten minutes before, at the start of my appointment
Finally I took off my bra
So many wolves fell out

In the roaring of the wolves the doctor said "Do you feel tenderness"
She was touching me

No, I said, not mostly
She said "You have very fibrous breast tissue I would not be surprised
If you felt tenderness during your period"

And the wolves ran around the table like a dog pack
Screaming and howling
In that little room
I said I don't have a period, then we barely locked eyes, the end



Texas Fontanella

Samaras - Livro 4

25.6.16

Tennessee Williams

— 
We Have Not Long to Love 

 We have not long to love. 
 Light does not stay. 
 The tender things are those 
 we fold away. 
 Coarse fabrics are the ones 
 for common wear. 
 In silence I have watched you comb your hair. 
 Intimate the silence, 
 dim and warm. 
 I could but did not, reach 
 to touch your arm. 
 I could, but do not, break
that which is still. 
 (Almost the faintest whisper 
 would be shrill.) 
 So moments pass as though 
 they wished to stay. 
 We have not long to love. 
 A night. A day….


Fernando Pessoa - manuscritos



17.6.16

Lucinda Williams - Unsuffer Me



Unlock my love
And set me free
Come fill me up
With ecstasy

Surround my heartbeat
With your fingertips
Unbound my feet
Untie my wrists

Come in to my world
Of loneliness
And wickedness
And bitterness
Unlock my love

Unsuffer me
Take away the pain
Unbruise, unbloody
Wash away the stain
Anoint my head
With your sweet kiss
My joy is dead
I long for bliss 
I long for knowledge
Whisper in my ear
Undo my logic, undo my fear
Unsuffer me
Unlock my love
And set me free
Come fill me up
With ecstasy
Unsuffer me
Take away the pain
Unbruise, unbloody
Wash away the stain

Surround my heartbeat
With your fingertips
Unbound my feet
Untie my wrists

Come in to my world
Of loneliness
And wickedness
And bitterness
Anoint my head
With your sweet kiss
My joy is dead
I long for bliss
I long for knowledge
Whisper in my ear
Undo my logic, undo my fear
Unsuffer me 


14.6.16

Jenny Holzer

Albert Omoss

Nihilist Jazz



0:00 All You Are Going To Want To Do Is Get Back There
3:45 - Moments Of Sufficient Lucidity
7:33 - The Great Hidden Sea Of The Unconscious
10:35 - Libet's Delay
14:00 - I Feel As If Might Be Vanishing
15:57 - An Empty Bliss Beyond This World
20:16 - Bedded Deep In Long Term Memory
22:05 - A Relationship With The Sublime
25:40 - Mental Caverns Without Sunshine
28:54 - Pared Back To The Minimal
30:40 - Mental Caverns Without Sunshine
32:15 - An Empty Bliss Beyond This World
36:03 - Tiny Gradiations Of Loss
38:55 - Camaraderie At Arms Length
43:41 - The Sublime Is Disappointingly Elusive
45:25 - Fleeting Dreams
48:28 - The Story Is Lost

(The Caretaker)