Sí, tu niñez ya fábula de fuentes. El tren y la mujer que llena el cielo. Tu soledad esquiva en los hoteles y tu máscara pura de otro signo. Es la niñez del mar y tu silencio donde los sabios vidrios se quebraban. Es tu yerta ignorancia donde estuvo mi torso limitado por el fuego. … More TU INFANCIA EN MENTON
Yo, que nunca sé callar, Y sólo tengo por mengua No vaciarme por la lengua Y el morirme por hablar, A todos quiero contar Cierto secreto que oí, Mas no ha de salir de aquí. Mediquillo se consiente Que al que enferma y va a curallo, Yendo a mula, va a caballo, Y por la … More From the Spanish Parnassus. Fifth Muse (Terpsichore)
A la fin tu es las de ce monde ancien Bergère ô tour Eiffel le troupeau des ponts bêle ce matin Tu en as assez de vivre dans l’antiquité grecque et romaine [Apollinaire] It is the weekend, and I am singing that I shall not visit Greek or Roman antiquities but Caddo ones. Later I … More Alcools (1912)
This weekend we are singing in victory, so we invoke the Cid. Listen to the precise clashing of swords in the Poem of the Cid as transcribed at UT-Austin. Here we have a much cuter version of the Cid — perhaps the very cutest ever. The best kind of background music for the Cid’s activities … More Dios, que buen vassallo, si oviese buen señore!
Light breaks where no sun shines; Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart Push in their tides; And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads, The things of light File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones. A candle in the thighs Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of … More Reading for Pleasure Wednesday: Light Breaks
Il n’est pas donné à chacun de prendre un bain de multitude: jouir de la foule est un art; et celui-là seul peut faire, aux dépens du genre humain, une ribote de vitalité, à qui une fée a insufflé dans son berceau le goût du travestissement et du masque, la haine du domicile et la … More Reading for Pleasure Wednesday: “Les foules”
I never know when modernity starts: 1492? 1637? 1789? This article says it is with Baudelaire, and we are quoting from it. Consider Flaubert’s smooth and instantaneous leap from “moral history” into “feelings.” This elision offers an unintended but eloquent verdict on what is great and strange about Baudelaire’s poetry: its unmatched capacity to transmute … More Reading for Pleasure Wednesday: “No Ideas but in Crowds”
POEM at 82 I find everything erotic– that’s the stomping ground of all intelligence– the intellect picks it up from the ground xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxand gives language as a kind of music to dance around See also Michael McClure on Blaser. Axé.
I am flying today from Amsterdam to Madrid, where I have not been in thirty years. Longer ago than that, I studied at the Liceo Serrano. It was on Serrano then but has now changed as an institution and moved out of town. I lived on a street whose name was changed after Franco died. … More Puerta de Acalá
I dedicate this May Day to the workers of course, to Janequin, to Flora, and to children. It is the weekend, and I am singing that our camping trip is tomorrow. I am so excited, I can hardly wait! Axé.
