quinta-feira, 24 de abril de 2014

James Methven - Precious Asses

How does it go?
To me that man is God,
More than God – God willing – ,
Who sits facing her, eyes her, ears her
.       Careless
Laughter. Seeing this, a sensual hell guts me;
Just so, for when I light on you, Nell,
There’s nothing left of my voice –
.       My poet’s words –
My practised tongue glues, my skin
Thrills with melting fire, my ears
Drown in thicked deep-sea noise, my eyes
.       Flare dark and dazzle out.
Time on your hands, Jimmy, that’s your problem:
Time’s your guilty joy, stretched idleness your life and work:
Time, that humbles kings and rubbles cities whole
      To dust.

Precious Asses, Seren Books, 2009.

sexta-feira, 11 de abril de 2014

My Rival's House - Liz Lochhead

My Rival's House

is peopled with many surfaces.
Ormolu and gilt, slipper satin,
lush velvet couches,
cushions so stiff you cant sink in.
Tables polished clear enough to see distortions in.

We take our shoes off at her door,
shuffle stocking-soled, tiptoe – the parquet floor
is beautiful and its surface must
be protected. Dust-
cover, drawn shade,
won’t let the surface colour fade.

Silver sugar-tongs and silver salver,
my rival serves us tea.
She glosses over him and me.
I am all edges, a surface, a shell
and yet my rival thinks she means me well.
But what squirms beneath her surface I can tell.
Soon, my rival
capped tooth, polished nail
will fight, fight foul for her survival.
Deferential, daughterly, I sip
and thank her nicely for each bitter cup.

And I have much to thank her for.
This son she bore – 
first blood to her – 
never, never can escape scot free
the sour potluck of family.
And oh how close
this family that furnishes my rival’s place.

Lady of the house.
Queen bee.
She is far more unconscious,
far more dangerous than me.
Listen, I was always my own worst enemy.
She has taken even this from me.

She dishes up her dreams for breakfast.
Dinner, and her salt tears pepper our soup.
She won’t
give up.
Liz Lochhead
from A Choosing: Selected Poems (Polygon 2011)

quarta-feira, 2 de abril de 2014

Rilke Shake - Angélica Freitas

salta um rilke shake
com amor & ovomaltine
quando passo a noite insone
e não há nada que ilumine
eu peço um rilke shake
e como um toasted blake
sunny side para cima
quando estou triste
& sozinha enquanto
o amor não cega
bebo um rilke shake
e roço um toasted blake
na epiderme da manteiga

nada bate um rilke shake
no quesito anti-heartache
nada supera a batida
de um rilke com sorvete
por mais que você se deite
se deleite e se divirta
tem noites que a lua é fraca
as estrelas somem no piche
e aí quando não há cigarro
não há cerveja que preste
eu peço um rilke shake
engulo um toasted blake
e danço que nem dervixe

Rilke Shake, Cosac Naify, 2007