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
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 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.
is desire
not a form
of it.
Niina Pollari
Do You Feel Tenderness
When I went to the doctorI 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 roomI said I don't have a period, then we barely locked eyes, the end
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….
|
20.6.16
18.6.16
14.6.16
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)
9.6.16
Voando sobre um ninho de drones :D
Vídeo de Maria Inês Castro Silva (texto)
e Alexandre Marinho (imagem) para
a revista ESC:ALA (www.escalanarede.com).
7.6.16
5.6.16
4.6.16
Incurable
INCURABLE Words by - GA Johnson The doctors shake their heads They chain around the bed They're looking for a reason to why I'm still not dead The medicine's not working I haven't sleep for days The light is shone right through me The skeleton is weighed Incurable, I'm helpless - the mind and body weak I have so much to tell you but I can't seem to speak Incurable, I'm lonely The city empties out I live inside the shadow - the shadow of a doubt The cannons fire across me I cannot make the trial The seasons crash around me The bones are in denial My temper is a tower The church will not provide You closed the drawer upon me I am unclassified Incurable, I'm helpless - the mind and body weak I have so much to tell you but I can't seem to speak Incurable, I'm lonely The city empties out I live inside the shadow - the shadow of a doubt
The romance of the season is wasted on the weak I stayed in bed through snowfall I tried to get some sleep Invisible and broken The spirit has moved out Words that were unspoken, I cannot live without A strange light beckons me this way A strange life beckons me this way
1.6.16
Que c'est vieille la Nouveauté
Que corte de cabelo estranho
Você até emagreceu
Pratica esporte todo dia
E até o dinheiro apareceu
Ela inventa uma infância triste
Recita em latim
Diz que só ouve Billie Holiday
Te dá um disco que eu já te dei
Sexo e champagne
Um simples beijo já faz ela gozar
Já está chegando
O grande dia do "eu te amo" e "vamo casar"
Ah, la Nouveauté
Que c'est vieille la Nouveauté
A frase é de Jacques Prevért
Num filme de Marcel Carné
As unhas no sabugo doídas
De tanto roer
Mas o pior é que bem lá no fundo
Eu ainda gosto de você
Sexo e champagne
Uns creme cracker dá pra me sustentar
Já está me dando
Vontade de te servir vidro moído no jantar
Estão felizes como dois imbecis
Comendo feijão gelado
Comemorando o fim de ano em Paris
Cantando desafinados
Fá Mi Ré Lá Dó
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