| i dont want to be demure or respectable "Maybe the fire in my lashes is a reflection of that. Why do I have so many thoughts, they are driving me crazy. Why am I always going anywhere, instead of somewhere? Listen to me or not, it hardly matters. I’m not trying to be wise, that would be foolish. I’m just chattering" no matter what "No matter what the world claims, its wisdom always growing, so it’s said, some things don’t alter with time: the first kiss is a good example, and the flighty sweetness of rhyme. No matter what the world preaches spring unfolds in its appointed time, the violets open and the roses, snow in its hour builds its shining curves, there’s the laughter of children at play, and the wholesome sweetness of rhyme. No matter what the world does, some things don’t alter with time. The first kiss, the first death. the sorrowful swee... apr 17 2024 ∞
jun 1 2024 +
I wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song where it falls down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery; I wanted to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was alive for a little while (...) And anyway it’s the same old story — a few people just trying, one way or another, to survive. Mostly, I want to be kind. And nobody, of course, is kind, or mean, for a simple reason. And nobody gets out of it, having to swim through the fires to stay in this world. And look! look! look! I think those little fish better wake up and dash themselves away from the hopeless future that is bulging toward them. And probably, if they don’t waste time looking for an easier world, they can do it. dec 21 2022 ∞
apr 17 2024 + |
forward "I would rather write poems than prose, any day, any place. Yet each has its force. Prose flows forward bravely and, often, serenely, only slowly exposing emotion. Every character, every idea piques our interest, until the complexity of it is its asset; we begin to feel a whole culture under and behind it. Poems are less cautious, and the voice of the poem remains somehow solitary. And it is a flesh and bone voice, that slips and slides and leaps over the bank and out onto any river it meets, landing, with sharp blades, on the smallest piece of ice. Working on prose and working on poems elicit different paces from the heartbeat. One is nicer to feel than the other, guess which one. When I have spent a long time with prose I feel the weight of the work. But when I work at poems, the word is in error; it isn’t like any other labor. Poems either do n... jul 22 2024 ∞
jul 22 2024 + "[...] a ficção autoriza a generalização e a transmissão, possibilitando um compartilhamento a distância. dar-se conta de que aquilo de indizível, informulável e até impenetrável que vivemos, outros exprimiram por meio de imagens ou palavras, é experimentar um laço com outrem, um possível compartilhamento desses fracassos relacionais que nos isolam, uma possível conexão com experiências plurais ou até coletivas. é o que nos dão, cada uma em seu campo, a empatia da ficção e a racionalização da teoria - ambas se alimentando reciprocamente." "como a ficção, a teoria ajuda a criar um vínculo com todos aqueles que nela se reconhecem. tanto uma como a outra abrem caminho para uma possível transmissão do que pode ter encerrado o sujeito no indizível, inimaginável, incompreensível, no não-simbolizável." "a ficção é, aliás, um recurso a que ... may 10 2024 ∞
may 12 2024 + "aquela mãe que insiste em seguir existindo como uma realidade para ela. mais viva ainda porque odeia e ama aquela mãe com a mesma intensidade, embora só tente odiar." "quer machucar a mãe com suas unhas até vê-la sangrar, quer quebrar uma unha no osso da mãe. e logo o remorso, o maldito remorso que sempre vem como uma gastura no estômago. sua gastrite tem nome e sobrenome e um dia se chamou útero." "não há como escapar da carne da mãe. o útero é para sempre." "desde criança, quando abro um livro não estou mais aqui. não é uma metáfora para mim." "continuo sem corpo. e ela lá fora, com medo que eu vá embora, fingindo desconhecer que não posso partir. nunca pude. porque arrasto comigo o corpo dela, que me engolfa e engole." "o que me perturba é menos denso. não e... jan 19 2023 ∞
apr 17 2024 + |
upstream "and whoever thinks these are worthy, breathy words i am writing down is kind. writing is neither vibrant life nor docile artifact but a text that would put all its money on the hope of suggestion. come with me into the field of sunflowers is a better line than anything you will find here, and the sunflowers themselves far more wonderful than any words about them." "my parents were downstream, not far away, then farther away because i was walking the wrong way, upstream instead of downstream. finally i was advertised on the hotline of help, and yet there i was, slopping along happily in the streams' coolness. so maybe it was the right way after all. if this was lost, let us all be lost always." "could you, oh clever one, do this? do you know anything about where you live, what it offers? have you ever said, "Sir Bea... jan 8 2023 ∞
apr 17 2024 + |