Entre el dolor y el placer median tres criaturas, de las cuales la una mira a un muro, la segunda usa de ánimo triste y la tercera avanza de puntillas; pero, entre tú y yo, sólo existen segundas criaturas. Apoyándose en mi frente, el día conviene en que, de veras, hay mucho de exacto en … More Entre el dolor y el placer
Rolling her cart across the cobblestones she sang: Pie lady! Pie lady! Sweet and savory pies For supper or dessert! This was in New Orleans the other day, but in Madrid when I was a child there were many such street vendors’ songs. I deciphered the rag man’s song and we memorized it, but there … More Pregón
I always think I ought to read fiction – novels, plays – but I like history, letters, essays, and poems. Now I am reading Jack Spicer’s After Lorca, in his collected poetry. In the same volume is a letter describing the house I wanted to live in as a child: Their house is built mainly … More Reading for Pleasure Wednesday: Jack Spicer
Friday the temperature was still dropping, and the university had decided to save money by turning off the heat. One person went home to butcher a pig for Saturday, but we came home and made lunch. To fully grasp the atmosphere you have to realize that my dining table and benches were made by local … More Feast Zero, After Which I Discuss My Inspiration Award
Do you like me? Yes, and you? Yes, yes. Cuando me quedo solo me quedan todavía tus diez años, los tres caballos ciegos, tus quince rostros con el rostro de la pedrada y las fiebres pequeñas heladas sobre las hojas del maíz. Stanton, hijo mío, Stanton. A las doce de la noche el cáncer salía … More El niño Stanton
Hermoso paraíso de salud. In Reeducation I would look at other people going about their lives and think: they are not less imperfect, or more guilty than I, yet they are not being interrogated, and they clearly feel free. I admired them as they swung their shoulders, looked forward and sideways, and walked right along. … More De vida en vida
UN DIA SOBRESALE De lo sonoro salen números, números moribundos y cifras con estiércol, rayos humedecidos y relámpagos sucios. De lo sonoro, creciendo, cuando la noche sale sola, como reciente viuda, como paloma o amapola o beso, y sus maravillosas estrellas se dilatan. En lo sonoro la luz se verifica: las vocales se inundan, el … More Un día sobresale
Vicente Huidobro’s Poemas árticos, now set to music. V.H. is very amusing and offers an axiom for musicians: “Birds do not sing well.” A famous Arctic Poem is PAQUEBOT, where the mail boat (or boat mail) cuts the horizon in two. Axé.
The Glorified Body – a fascinating poem. “Though I’m old and sick,” said Uncle Ned, postincision, half his stomach gone, “in God’s eye, I’m just a baby.” He looks forward to his new body, his second coming together–successful, not like this dying from the inside out, ending in the rotten sweet smell of cancer, antimatter … More Reading for Pleasure Wednesday: Patricia Barone
¿Cuánto tiempo ha durado la anestesia, que llaman los hombres? ¡Ciencia de Dios, Teodicea! si se me echa a vivir en tales condiciones, anestesiado totalmente, volteada mi sensibilidad para adentro! ¡Ah doctores de las sales, hombres de las esencias, prójimos de las bases! Pido se me deje con mi tumor de conciencia, con mi irritada … More “Las ventanas se han estremecido” IV
coldhearted scientist وداد 