Dezembro

as pessoas precisam de pessoas

as bocas de bocas

as mãos de mãos...

os olhares de olhares

e os risos alimentam-se de risos.

uma esperança

CHARLES ECKART

Storming Through the Gate

1963, ink and pastel on paper 16 x 23 inches

I am no grateful

“

Do not think I am no grateful for your small

kindness to me.

I like small kindnesses.

In fact I actually prefer them to the more

substantial kindness, that is always eyeing you,

like a large animal on a rug,

until your whole life reduces

to nothing but waking up morning after morning

cramped, and the bright sun shining on its tusks.

”

-Louise Glück-Gratitude
Louise Glück, The House on Marshland
The Ecco Press, New York (1975), p. 17
also The First Five Books of Poems
Carcanet Press, Manchester, UK, 1997, p. 75

o Natal quase a chegar

o sol é apenas um ponto branco,
alto no céu afogado em nuvens

eu digo que acredito no pai natal,
rio-me como uma rena (mas sem o nariz vermelho...)

esplanada

ESPLANADA

 Naquele tempo falavas muito de perfeição,
da prosa dos versos irregulares
onde cantam os sentimentos irregulares.
Envelhecemos todos, tu, eu e a discussão,

 agora lês saramago & coisas assim 
eu já não fico a ouvir-te como antigamente
olhando as tuas pernas que subiam lentamente
até um sítio escuro dentro de mim.

 O café agora é um banco, tu professora do liceu:
Bob Dylan encheu-se de dinheiro, o Che morreu.
Agora as tuas pernas são coisas úteis, andantes,
e não caminhos de andar como dantes,
chamando do fundo do meu coração.

  Manuel António Pina

is this perfection ?

found in The Impossible Cool, reading Cloud Atlas...thinking of Sonmi 451

take no prisoners

When shooting someone, aim for the heart...no point in taking prisoners...

pay attention

“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”

-
Mary Oliver. A Thousand Mornings

The best people

Dana Baginska

The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to 

take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for 

sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they 

are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.

—Ernest Hemingway (A Farewell To Arms)

nice

Prayer

Prayer
by Jorie Graham
Over a dock railing, I watch the minnows, thousands, swirl themselves, each a minuscule muscle, but also, without the way to create current, making of their unison (turning, re- infolding, entering and exiting their own unison in unison) making of themselves a visual current, one that cannot freight or sway by minutest fractions the water's downdrafts and upswirls, the dockside cycles of finally-arriving boat-wakes, there where they hit deeper resistance, water that seems to burst into itself (it has those layers) a real current though mostly invisible sending into the visible (minnows) arrowing motion that forces change-- this is freedom. This is the force of faith. Nobody gets what they want. Never again are you the same. The longing is to be pure. What you get is to be changed. More and more by each glistening minute, through which infinity threads itself, also oblivion, of course, the aftershocks of something at sea. Here, hands full of sand, letting it sift through in the wind, I look in and say take this, this is what I have saved, take this, hurry. And if I listen now? Listen, I was not saying anything. It was only something I did. I could not choose words. I am free to go. I cannot of course come back. Not to this. Never. It is a ghost posed on my lips. Here: never.

A chuva voltou hoje

A chuva voltou hoje,

depois de um longo estio

a chuva cai tristeza em gotas.

Ainda de manhã demorei a atravessar a rua

só para olhar melhor as pernas nuas

da rapariga que atravessava -  

por ora acabaram as pernas nuas

a partir de agora sombras, 

volumes a cobrir o frio.

Regatos correm ao longo dos passeios,

Outra música, outro tempo.

Sudden

 “People think of history in the long term, but history, in fact, is a very sudden thing.”

Phillip Roth’s  American Pastoral

 

 

 

 

 

The Unknown Citizen

 

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a
   saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content 
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace:  when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his
   generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their
   education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

 

(W.H. Auden) 

Write something

“Write something, even if it's just a suicide note. ”
― Gore Vidal

Nah...don't think so...

Clear-cut

"Xxxxxx's biography was in need of a plot and his worldview was in need of a moral."

found in Grand Old Marxists

Timothy Snyder - The New York Review of Books

Just at the beginning of Martha Gellhorn "The Face of war" she states that things with the Nazis were clear-cut : what they attacked we could very clearly support...Now in the days of the 50 or more shades of gray things get more complicated,  reality though is making a comeback and it's  costing us – but one has only to remember that in some parts of the world there was never gray, it was either black or white as always was, you couldn’t just stand on the wall, life always forces you to be in one of the sides of it…

Clear-cut : life will get rougher in Europe, just hope that somebody remembers the history of the XXth century and its wars…Hope that’s not the same path we’re following…Egg of the serpent looming in the shadow always.

Hugo

Hugo Cabret:
 I'd imagine the whole world was one big machine. Machines never come with any extra parts, you know.They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured if the entire world was one big machine... I couldn't be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason.

I remain

After they all leave,
I remain alone with the poems,
some poems of mine, some of others.
I prefer poems that others have written.
I remain quiet, and slowly
the knot in my throat dissolves.
I remain.

#Dahlia Ravikovitch

VRSA

Burn

“What is to give light must endure burning.”

- Victor E. Frankl