14.3.13

Álvaro Mendes







nom sabeis concual prazer m´entrego à idéia que preçede a criaçom.

levanto cedo, logo m´esfrego, entre la lampe et le soleil

carece choisir a linguagem adequada         nem pouco nem excessivo

la mesure    le point de jour.

nã sabedes quã labor dá um pícolo anúncio fulgurante in página

cual jóia:

la mesure

le point du jour



Na Lagoa das Varejeiras


    Na Lagoa de caldo grosso
    (embora chumbo, transparente)
    brilha um Cálice, atufado,
    até à bôca, de Bósta
    dentro do Sacrário; o Cálice
    esverdeado/fosforescente
    – vara de porcos o contemplam!
    (de porcos, digo, vara de humanos),
    mãos ajoelhadas – e os focinhos,
    – roxos – pênis assanhados
    pelas cócegas das Varejeiras...

    Dentro do Sacrário, do Cálice
    entufado até à bôca,
    de Bósta – desprendem-se as Flores
    das Fézes
    em anéis gordos, em ôlhas
    de hóstias que sobem devagar,
    liquefeitas bolhas catarros
    sobem devagar, pardas, lenta-
    mente montam pelos caules
    das transidas – subaquáticas
    plantas de raízes lívidas.

    irrompem as Bôlhas de Fézes
    irrompem, sem bulha, as hóstias,
    irrompem as hóstias de Bósta
      do caldo grosso da Lagoa
      do fundo chumbo da Lagoa
      da Lagoa de chumbo espesso
      desfazendo-se ao lume dágua
      ejaculando-se à flor dágua,
      – espirram nas línguas suínas
      dos porcos contemplativos
      (dos porcos, digo, dos humanos,
      suinumanos contemplativos),
      – rubros – pênis assanhados
      pelas lambidas das Varejeiras,
      – espalham-se ao lume dágua
      da Lagoa das Varejeiras!

      as Bôlhas de Bósta, ou hóstias
      da Eucaristia novíssima
      transubstanciada em gás-podre,
      transubstanciada no monco
      – exalação do novo deus! –,
      lambuzam as goelas-suínas
      (de tanto engolir, feridas),
      atufam as goelas-focinhos
      dos porcos que dentro espiam
      da Lagoa mesmerizada
      (dos porcos, digo, dos humanos),
      lambendo no muco divino,
      chupando, no divino gás,
      o Corpo Glorioso do deus,
      – do Novo deus, da humanidade nova!

        Vitória-régia, hóstia divina,
        ôlha-gorda de gás-muco
        alumiada a Canhões de Luz!
        flutuando sobre a Lagoa
        (a Lagoa do Caldo Grosso!)
        – qual o Pneuma de Javé
        pairando sobre águas antigas!

        hóstia divina  gás muco
        Eucaristia da Bósta
        (dádiva do Novo deus,
        – do Novo deus à humanidade Nova!),
        – entufa de Fézes, de Bósta,
        estufa de Fézes a Bôca,
        entope de Bósta a Bôca
        – a grande suinumana Bôca-Porca
        a sono solto roncante-saciada

        que chupa e vomita
        que chupa e vomita
        gulosa de Infinito
        o suco do Infinito
        o monco do Infinito
        da Hóstia de Bósta
        – e dorme – refestelada!





4.3.13

Ted Hughes




 Lovesong


He loved her and she loved him. 
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to 
He had no other appetite 
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked 
She wanted him complete inside her 
Safe and sure forever and ever 
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains 

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away 
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows 
He gripped her hard so that life 
Should not drag her from that moment 
He wanted all future to cease 
He wanted to topple with his arms round her 
Off that moment's brink and into nothing 
Or everlasting or whatever there was


Her embrace was an immense press 
To print him into her bones 
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy palace 
Where the real world would never come 
Her smiles were spider bites 
So he would lie still till she felt hungry 
His words were occupying armies 
Her laughs were an assassin's attempts 
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge 
His glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets 
His whispers were whips and jackboots 
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing 
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway 
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks 
And their deep cries crawled over the floors 
Like an animal dragging a great trap 
His promises were the surgeon's gag 
Her promises took the top off his skull 
She would get a brooch made of it 
His vows pulled out all her sinews 
He showed her how to make a love-knot 
Her vows put his eyes in formalin 
At the back of her secret drawer 
Their screams stuck in the wall 

Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves 
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop 

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs 
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage 

In the morning they wore each other's face