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giovedì 13 marzo 2008

vorrei mostrarti la mia gatta

(for katgum - by dariush)

i don't know if she's really mine

but at the same time

she's mine

she's her own as well

she wanders

and she learns to climb

last night she couldn't get over it

in the morning she finds a way

she falls over a few times

she cries

i go to pick her up and she objects

she's no object no subject

her eyes are blue

bluer than you know

and at the same time

i wonder if she sees me at all

sometimes i think she doesn't see at all

domenica 9 marzo 2008

Phil Jones: todo índice é um poema

exemplares, singulares, casos pensados
bedelho, bedelho
o res-to do mundo
a res e os pés
do intelectus
nenhum pensamento é uma ilha
experiência de matamoros: conhecer coisas
descrições, descrições, descrições
Vera Lúcia de Oliveira
Verdades. Insuficientes.

E pensar o único

credenciais de pilastra
necessidade sem universalidade?
tentações transcendentais
cético, ascético, presenças plenas
tornar-se conceito

estereoscopia de exemplos
condicionais atividades da manteiga
esta manteiga
dentro do lugar
seu lugar: essência
a casa da diferença
são regimes
o prazer de mentir minha singularidade
o pensamento próprio

Excessos são mais tentações transcendentais

o céu de noite
nem fascista
areia, enfim
nas fissuras
o espaco entre os pensamentos
a posteriori

Saciará?, pregunta Paulina Vinderman

El poema es solo hijo del azar?
De tanto decir agua saciará su sed?

Metalurgia de palavras, por Daniel Faria

Conserto a palavra com todos os sentidos em silêncio
Dou-lhe um som para que ela fale por dentro
Ela é um candeeiro sobre a minha mesa
Reunida numa forma comparada à lâmpada
A um zumbido calado momentaneamente em enxame

sabato 8 marzo 2008

Seducing the guest

my brains like what comes in buca l'umbrello
are bold
open and close and open
it's got only neurons firing
to fancy territories
the old conclusions
can colide, crawl through, pierce diamond
our Teorema man like what comes in buca l'umbrello

come and conquer my wetlands

venerdì 7 marzo 2008


provocative guest blogger:


on your 23rd birthday

some man comes and puts a gun to your lips

tells you to open your mouth

and you open

tells you to swallow

and you swallow

there is nothing you can do

this is not you

the mouth and the gun and the hand and the man

are a machine

this machine is not desiring

it compresses desire

into a nut

hidden inside a belly

frozen up

you forget it

politics is not about desire

politics is about

walls lanes dead ends

structures that force

you the only way possible

this is called necessity

desire only reenters

if you force it back

with all your subjectivity









of course you may die

then it was a machine

after all

mercoledì 5 marzo 2008

news reports

dariush guest blogger spends too much time today on his own reading news reports and gets some bad news from friends:


i can sit in a room with trees and a window

reports are coming in

through the green shutters

breeze calling arrows of geese

chasing the summer north

north across frontiers

forest and trails of

satellite phones

calling down death delivery

you drag the bodies back across the border

you hide the bodies in the woods

my friend calls me

says they came with a lot of guns

last night

now she's lost her home

i should have been there

there wasn't anything i could do

when they come with guns

we have to swallow

but we should swallow it together

now they say there is a trail

that goes somewhere through caracas

they allege

all the way down here to rio

they allege

with these swift allegations

that fly in advance of bombs

that precipitate bullets

i don't care what they allege

they can swallow their allegations

i don't care what's true or false

everything's so tangled up anyway

just they should come here themselves

all together

unnamed security officials

diplomats with many years experience

military police colonels

investigative journalists

writing in left of centre newspapers

they should come here where my friends live

and spread themselves out

link hands

lie down

spread themselves out

like manure on the road

public works

and let them swallow the bullets this time

let's all swallow

all together

i can sit in a room

reports are coming in


it doesn't matter who we elegise

we all die the same time

the same death is our death

if i take the name of a man

i scrawl on a wall


when i hear about death i just want

to sleep

to sleep very deep

even though i have so much work to do

reports are coming in

someone needs to note them

or we'll all get lost in it

you were very young

you were very old

it doesn't matter

i feel sick to see your name


you are waiting for a call

that might give you hope

you can't solve for yourself

where you turn next

you have to pick yourself up

but you have no lever

too much weight

this is how it is

when you face power

it can't be questioned

because power makes a man

no more a man

he becomes a weight

a god is iron

a man turns into iron

his face is too distant

to have eyes

he has iron legs

and iron hands

he can't cup his hands

or blink his eyes

or will his legs

i hope i never

have power

to kill

4. an old conclusion

the world outside has nothing to offer us

it's all the same if you go

in a line all around the world

crossing many countries

you'll find everything is made of the same stuff

called matter

which it doesn't

there are squares made out of walls

white or red coloured, depending

and with roofs on top where people


and mouths that open under hills


made by tongues of green sea


for all its colours

the colour of the world

is predominantly yellow

the yellow of old skin

there are stars but

even if you follow the stars

you don't find nothing new

domenica 2 marzo 2008

A arte de rodar o pé

frua, flua, tua dobra
tu fazes um rasgo no mundo
sozinho, ele flutua

não permita que a experiência se conclua