Here is a large plate I finished recently — about 14″ across. At the studio they alleged it was not good enough to keep but I insisted. When it came out of the kiln at last, I could see why they said it was destined to be flawed. I decided I would give it as … More Hafiz
We have had the Devil to pay lately, here in Maringouin. We have lost some people and a program. The above song sings to the 1964-84 Brazilian dictatorship that in spite of it, tomorrow is another day. And in life generally, we had so much advice on how to get things done. I, however, have … More The Devil to Pay in the Backlands
Ó esplêndida lua, debruçada sobre Joaquim Nabuco, 81. Tu não banhas apenas a fachada e o quarto de dormir, prenda comum. Baixas a um vago em mim, onde nenhum halo humano ou divino fez pousada, e me penetras, lâmina de Ogum, e sou uma lagoa iluminada. Tudo branco, no tempo. Que limpeza nos resíduos e … More A Vida Passada a Limpo
Ello es que el lugar donde me pongo el pantalón, es una casa donde me quito la camisa en alta voz y donde tengo un suelo, un alma, un mapa de mi España. Ahora mismo hablaba de mí conmigo, y ponía sobre un pequeño libro un pan tremendo y he, luego, hecho el traslado, he … More Last day of class
Margarita está linda la mar, y el viento, lleva esencia sutil de azahar; yo siento en el alma una alondra cantar; tu acento: Margarita, te voy a contar un cuento: Esto era un rey que tenía un palacio de diamantes, una tienda hecha de día y un rebaño de elefantes, un kiosko de malaquita, un … More A Margarita Debayle
An event. A father who speaks long. A family which does not have care and whose child is at the event. A child who interrupts his father. A child bored. A father who allows his child to interrupt. A father who says son, I am talking. A father who says audience, I am sorry, it … More Love in the provinces
Václav Havel is one of the people about whom I do not know enough. The Nation had a piece on Havel and Occupy, quoting interesting texts by him from the sixties and seventies that shed shocking light on the present moment. I would like to point to it and read it again. Eventually it will … More Václav Havel
…with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore in the last red light of the year that knows what it is, that knows it’s neither ice nor mud nor winter light but wood, with a gift for burning Axé.
Tuesday I forgot to drink coffee. I never forget this and I am amazed to have done so, although the reason was that the gas man and the electrician had come early to work on the stove. It has taken me until now to feel somewhat normal, two or three cups of coffee this morning and … More Los errores felices
Hunger Camp at Jasło Write it. Write. In ordinary ink on ordinary paper: they were given no food, they all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass for each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, as … More Wislawa Szymborska
