Poise

Maria de 'Medici 1551
By Agnolo Bronzino
Galleria degli Uffizi

perseids

Photograph by Ali Jarekji/Reuters.

forgive me

This is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

William Carlos Williams

stunning

I like dove gray

I like dove gray

(Radioactive forests are menaced by forest fires in the East)
I don’t know who I am coming and going…
Eat, love, pray is a huge success,
Julia Roberts seems more the part than the woman who actually lived it -
Or did she ?

I’ve been loving so much this month

Listening now to a song named “sleep all summer”
I didn’t and pretty much enjoyed it :
Juicy days like ripe fruit, simple pleasures like diving into water
Mattering more and more, silver and turquoise filled my head,
For no particular reason…lots of very fresh rose wine
Leaving feel good tears on glasses.
(leave the deadly particles still, please don’t touch them,
Please don’t call attention to us)

peace of mind

always

One Art

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

here it comes...

Livros

take a look...

Silence

Juan Gris [ Book, Pipe and Glasses ] 1915

The Truth the Dead Know

The Truth the Dead Know
by Anne Sexton

For my Mother, born March 1902, died March 1959
and my Father, born February 1900, died June 1959


Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.

We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
myself where the sun gutters from the sky,
where the sea swings in like an iron gate
and we touch. In another country people die.

My darling, the wind falls in like stones
from the whitehearted water and when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one's alone.
Men kill for this, or for as much.

And what of the dead? They lie without shoes
in the stone boats. They are more like stone
than the sea would be if it stopped. They refuse
to be blessed, throat, eye and knucklebone.

um pouco de azul

Mujer bañista de Joan Miró 1925. Oil on canvas. Musée National d’Art Moderne, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris, France.

peace

flor amarela (nothing much)

(às vezes não temos a ferramenta melhor para o trabalho, usamos então a que temos à mão e fazemos o melhor possível...)

just a couple of yellow flowers in the sun, nothing much, but it warms our hearts...

Aguardente

- Oh menina cortei-me no dedo, não me vai buscar dois tostões de aguardente para ver se passa ?
...
- Mas sr. António, o senhor bebeu a aguardente toda, não a pôs no dedo...
- Deixa minha linda, que por dentro é que faz bem !

Random Oblique Strategies Online

Random Oblique Strategies Online

apagada e vil tristeza

O favor com que mais se acende o engenho
não no dá a pátria, não, que está metida
no gosto da cobiça e na rudeza
duma austera, apagada e vil tristeza.

E não sei por que influxo de destino
não tem um ledo orgulho e geral gosto,
que os ânimos levanta de continuo
a ter para trabalhos ledo o rosto.

do you judge a book by its cover ?