quarta-feira, 11 de março de 2015

things we lose in the fire

accept the good
stuff burned out in the fire
is just stuff
the good you can
accept the deed
neither right nor wrong
no need to rewind
no need to remind
accept the time
burned out in the rain
what’s gone
no need to share
to confide or to confess
no need to restrain
accept the ends
the ways that bend
the soundless
what no one needs to hear
ears don’t take you there
they don’t contain
accept that words are often like stuff

segunda-feira, 9 de fevereiro de 2015


não    não há palavra dada
nenhuma proposta

medo inho de ir sozinho
medo ão de ficar furacão
resistência coisa de chuveiro
desdentado horizonte mineiro

montes ãos tão inhos
indo embora
buraco morto
montanha delindo-se no porto

sábado, 17 de janeiro de 2015


uma gente que quis dizer
dito pelo não dito

um chato certo
um errado consistente e simpático

e o meio?
e a gente maluca?

nenhuma palavra
elas todas tortas mancas manetas

segunda-feira, 29 de dezembro de 2014

poesis, poesis

There were ghosts that returned to earth to hear his phrases,
As he sat there reading, aloud, the great blue tabulae.
They were those from the wilderness of stars that had expected more.

There were those that returned to hear him read from the poem of life,
Of the pans above the stove, the pots on the table, the tulips among them.
They were those that would have wept to step barefoot into reality,

That would have wept and been happy, have shivered in the frost
And cried out to feel it again, have run fingers over leaves
And against the most coiled thorn, have seized on what was ugly

And laughed, as he sat there reading, from out of the purple tabulae,
The outlines of being and its expressings, the syllables of its law:
Poesis, poesis, the literal characters, the vatic lines,

Which in those ears and in those thin, those spended hearts,
Took on color, took on shape and the size of things as they are
And spoke the feeling for them, which was what they had lacked.

sexta-feira, 26 de dezembro de 2014

the woman in the balcony [on demand]

All of a sudden
At least it seemed so then
The terrain got flat and plain
From the balcony
She starred at it long enough for the moon to change

Nothing changed
Her terrain stood flat and plain
There was no question
Nothing to answer nothing to claim

She took the pill
Two of them
Two shots of tequila
To shut down the brain
Kept starring at the terrain
There was no beauty there was no stain
The moon turned off its phases
Nothing to see nothing to complain
Two more shots of tequila then
‘Perhaps I am part of the terrain
 Worlds apart from any claim‘

Silence asked for silence
As the words also got flat and plain
 ‘Sure hoping is always in vain
  But mayhap tomorrow won’t be this way’

sábado, 20 de dezembro de 2014


tudo o que devia, passou
os tempos idos se foram tinta
e descascado está o que ficou

se as fotos guardadas na caixa de papelão
conectam o outrora e entendem isso agora,
para que outra demão?