Poiesis/ποίησις,manifestación de la belleza por medio de la palabra
Árboles bajo la lluvia
Abandoné tribus, religiones, amantes.
Robé en el bar de la esquina
sorbos de vino de una copa ajena
y entré en el rumor de la noche
que venía cayendo en suspiros de niebla.
Desde entonces el universo
gira demasiado lejos.
Desde entonces la vida me deja
un frío lento zurcido al cuello,
soledades que nunca
perderán su sabor a niebla,
a humo de cigarro,
a humedad poética. … Leer más
A very still life
The night after the service, his sister appears
to him. She is gathering her paintings
for the show her gallery promised: seascapes
like bowls of broth, moons like Camembert
wheels, chunked off and eaten. Her life’s work!
She asks his opinion of this one, that one.
She says, “Nobody calls me.”… Leer más
Another’s skin on the wound
because so much can be grafted though mostly
my own hip or back will do. If it’s really the body
and not metaphor, some expert in
cellular smarts could link-up those capillaries like
the guy on a chair at the basement power box knows
what’s what with wires
so the fridge will work again, and the stove,
and the lights when windows darken.… Leer más
寒の月の木の影うごきをる
kan no tsuki aze no ki no kage ugoki oru
la luna fría,
se mueven las sombras de los árboles
al borde del arrozal
***
貨車過ぐるひびきのつたふ雪の宿
kasha ka guru hibiki no tsuta fu yuki no yado
la casa nevada,
el sonido de los vagones de mercancías
al pasar
***
春さむく楽もていたはる類のこけ
haru samuku tenohira mote itawaru hoo no koke
primavera fría,
con la palma de la mano acaricio
las mejillas hundidas
***
着の葉やふところに私む熱の指
shimo no ha ya futokoro ni mi mu netsu no yubi
hojas de escarcha
escondidas en mi pecho,
los misteriosos dedos cálidos
***
湯の中に乳房いとしく秋の夜
Yu no naka ni chibusa itoshiku aki no yoru
en el baño caliente
siento mis pechos tiernos,
noche de otoño
***
あきのあめ衿の黒子をいはれけり
Aki no ame eri no hokuro o iwarekeri
lluvia de otoño;
alguien habló de mi lunar
en la nuca
***
肉感に浸りひたるや熱れ石榴
nikkan ni hitari hitaru ya ure zakuro
empapada de sensualidad
madura
la granada.… Leer más
¿Sabes de dónde vine?
¿Sabes de dónde vine con mis ropas sencillas?
Con el alma y el cuerpo saturada de aromas
De tréboles, de malvas, verbenas y gramillas
Y en los ojos las curvas perfectas de las lomas?
Yo vine de los campos que dora el sol ardiente
Donde forja el labriego el pan de cada día
Arrojando a los surcos la bendita simiente
Mientras juegan sus hijos en la blanca alquería.… Leer más
Vivan los sentidos
seré una mujer
una gata tiene tanto encanto
al encorvar su lomo leonado
una mujer
una loba que aullando siempre
roza el tronco de un árbol
seré una mu-
una gallina cloquea vuela de la valla
y se pasea
con una dignidad natural
una mujer
un cojín rasgado por una uña
expulsa en la cara
una caricia de plumón
-jer — mu-
degollada
me enfriaré en una forma irrepetible
y con esa forma atraeré
con los brazos caídos
prometeré placer hasta el fondo de nada
dar — entregar
y seré ese perfecto cuerpo vacío
una mujer
De: Himno idólatra, 1958
Odkąd cię poznałam (Desde que te conocí)
Odkąd cię poznałam, noszę w kieszeni szminkę
to jest bardzo głupie nosić szminkę w kieszeni
gdy ty patrzysz na mnie tak poważnie
jakbyś w moich oczach widział gotycki kościół.… Leer más
Thrashing Seems Crazy
this is true
a man in an alley grabbed my arm
this is true
someone called me an left the phone dangling at the post office
this is true
a man stalked me
someone tells a story
someone tells a story to another person
another person says I don’t believe this
someone tells the story again in an attempt to convince
someone tells
as disbelief is easy
belief is difficult, supported by constraint
but a woman knows a man stalked her
knows this is true
a woman knows her own address
her own body
her lost domain, her desires, her confusions
someone tells a story
there are things people can do to themselves
they are:
leave molotov cocktail on own yard
set fire to own house
leave a glass of urine on own porch
leave envelope of feces outside own door
send a butcher knife to self at work
send letter to health department that self is spreading VD
stab own back
someone tells this story
says this is true
self turns on self
the knife enters at a point that the self could not have reached
but did
someone tells and then repeats and she stalks herself several
times to convince
someone tries to enter into the information
to pass words back and forth that have meaning
fails, resorts to this is true
this is true
a woman calls her stalker The Poet
this is true
a woman describes a stalker in terms that describe herself
this is true
a woman stalked herself to kill herself
this is true
a woman is at times a man
when a fish is hooked
other fish don’t see the hook
thrashing seems crazy
the hook could be the branding of a woman at a young age
by a man
or an older male neighbor spending too much time with a
child
or the boring nature of life
in the story the hook is the artist’s rendering of the stalker as
described by the woman
it is the woman in a man’s face
she does not know this man
thrashing seems crazy
later she realizes it is herself
her knife
her hook
her own face she was always drawing male
this is true
as thrashing is not crazy when one is on the hook
Narrative
The water is blackish, green, and dark.… Leer más
Pietro Gori
Un raggio d’oro gli baciò la fronte
E placido sorrise…
E verso l’arco d’azzurrato monte
Un volo ardito l’anima decise.
E l’Elba rossa, di nascente aurora
Magnifica si cinse,
E accanto al mare, che il tramonto indora,
Il dolce canto i nostri sogni avvinse.
E pura e quieta, in trepida armonia,
Vagò la sua canzone
Forte di fede e grande d’anarchia,
Di pensiero vibrante e di passione.… Leer más
A Coloured Print By Shokei
It winds along the face of a cliff
This path which I long to explore,
And over it dashes a waterfall,
And the air is full of the roar
And the thunderous voice of waters which sweep
In a silver torrent over some steep.
.
It clears the path with a mighty bound
And tumbles below and away,
And the trees and the bushes which grow in the rocks
Are wet with its jewelled spray;
The air is misty and heavy with sound,
And small, wet wildflowers star the ground.… Leer más
The Visionary
The woman in the sweet shop
is turning into the mother.
Only the other week
she was young
when talk of weddings
and wallpaper and new fridges
an a small flat in the town was all talk.
Then for God knows why
he took a bus thar never stopped
and she was left
with the wallpaper shame
of not having any fruit in her womb
that she might buy
white socks for.… Leer más
Proudly powered by WordPress | Theme: Baskerville 2 by Anders Noren.