sexta-feira, 21 de outubro de 2016

Lifesaving - Wes Lee

They don’t do it anymore,
breathe into the mouth to save.
We had learnt it reluctantly,
lined up beside a recumbent dummy,
waiting to take our turn to kneel at that mouth.
The simplest things disturb –
at night when the fluoros shut off and the cover is pulled,
the tiles swabbed – there it lies open,
not even a ventriloquist’s dummy
is so exposed.

Retirado daqui.

segunda-feira, 17 de outubro de 2016

From Let them eat chaos - Kate Tempest

The squats we used to party in
are flats we can’t afford
The dumps we did our dancing in
have all been restored
Pints are up two quid
the staff are beautiful and bored
You think it’s coming round here?
It’s falling on its sword.
It don’t feel like home no more
I don’t speak the lingo.
Since when was this a winery?
It used to be the bingo.
I’ve walked these streets for all my life
they know me like no other.
But the streets have changed.
I no longer feel them
Alright alright, I get the gist.
Whose city is this?
It doesn’t want me no more.
I’ve had a glimpse
into the future.
It stinks.
London’s a walled fort,
it’s all for the rich,
if you fall short
you fall.
You know where the door is.
Board up the broken,
do it up,
sell it back
make it bespoke.
It’s all out in the open.
It’s fine, man,
hike the price right up
and smile with your friends
in the posh new nightclubs.
My streets have been dug up.
New routes for commuters.
The landscape has changed
I’m looking for the old tags,
the graffs that once meant
safe territory
but it seems
every hieroglyph gets whitewashed

Kate Tempest. Let them eat chaos. Picador, 2016.

sexta-feira, 7 de outubro de 2016

Alimento Imperfeito - Ana Marques Gastão

Possa eu tornar-me pedra,
de pedra areia, da rocha
grão, do diamante brilho.

Endureça eu como concha
de água matricial, minério
de cobre, coração cristalino.

Seja eu alimento imperfeito
de clareza perfeita, mar denso, 
condensado, astral e puro.

Seja eu mel coagulado
d'orvalho e ouro vivo.

Ana Marques Gastão. Adornos. Lisboa: D. Quixote, 2011.

domingo, 2 de outubro de 2016

A poem by Crispin Best

i am riding lifts on my 30th birthday 
somewhere you are all of my direct messages and
a little drunk with you on a train would be nice
anyway they washed the floor of the museum
so my footprint is everywhere on my 30th birthday
and my shoe bottoms must be very beautiful 
somewhere i am a kite when you slam me into the sand
anyway i am sweating in the museum lonely
somewhere i am sweating not touching butterflies in the
enclosure too
place your animal parts close by
on my 30th birthday
feel free
anyway this unshrinkable distance between us
anyway your knees in the morning
somewhere i am sweating quietly learning how to pick up a butterfly
on my 30th birthday
after i nearly step on a butterfly in the enclosure too
there are chrysalises with us here
touch my chest in my imagination
anyway take off your belt with me
on my 30th birthday
somewhere i am sweating watching the pattern of your bra
complicate the front of your blouse
never stop

Retirado daqui.