ABRUPTO |
semper idem Ano XIII ...M'ESPANTO ÀS VEZES , OUTRAS M'AVERGONHO ... (Sá de Miranda) _________________ correio para jppereira@gmail.com _________________
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23.1.11
EARLY MORNING BLOGS 1951- Political Poem Luxury, then, is a way of being ignorant, comfortably An approach to the open market of least information. Where theories can thrive, under heavy tarpaulins without being cracked by ideas. (I have not seen the earth for years and think now possibly “dirt” is negative, positive, but clearly social. I cannot plant a seed, cannot recognize the root with clearer dent than indifference. Though I eat and shit as a natural man ( Getting up from the desk to secure a turkey sandwich and answer the phone: the poem undone undone by my station, by my station, and the bad words of Newark.) Raised up to the breech, we seek to fill for this crumbling century. The darkness of love, in whose sweating memory all error is forced. Undone by the logic of any specific death. (Old gentlemen who still follow fires, tho are quieter and less punctual. It is a polite truth we are left with. Who are you? What are you saying? Something to be dealt with, as easily. The noxious game of reason, saying, “No, No, you cannot feel,” like my dead lecturer lamenting thru gipsies his fast suicide. (Amiri Baraka / LeRoi Jones) (url)
© José Pacheco Pereira
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