.

.

people introduce us to ourselves

- courtney kampa

.

.

.

the tiuu of birds

- czesław miłosz

.

.

.

LANGUAGE

Cosmos, i.e., pain raved in me with a diabolic tongue.

HARMONY

Deprived. And why shouldn't you be deprived?

Those better than you were deprived.

LONGING

Not that I want to be a god or a hero.

Just to change into a tree, grow for ages, not hurt anyone.

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

with my companion, the spirit of desolation

- czesław miłosz

.

.

.

MUDANÇA

solidão nova

mesmo vento, outro vazio

mesmo eu, sem mim

- AR

.

.

.

My heart grew weary

From delight,

From despair,

From ardor,

From hope.

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

A shame of failing to be

what I should have been.

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

.

.

Full of

beg, I wait for a prince longing to give my

breath back to me. Heretic tongue,

I will never admit what he means to

me. Will say

he was simply a game I

could not pass up. Love

is a death wish between you

and the you you’re becoming. I will never admit to

him that his love feels like a tease

from God. A gift I

only deserve as prelude to punishment. Love

is a bluff  between goodbye and forever. You

give yourself to the gamble, to

the breathlessness that is a hammer

on your chest. I

will never admit what his love

is to me.

- Josh Alex Baker

.

.

.

UNROMANTIC LOVE

J. V. Cunningham

There is no stillness in this wood.

The quiet of this clearing

Is the denial of my hearing

The sounds I should.

There is no vision in this glade.

This tower of sun revealing

The timbered scaffoldage is stealing

Essence from shade.

Only my love is love’s ideal.

The love I could discover

In these recesses knows no lover,

Is the unreal,

The undefined, unanalysed,

Unabsolute many;

It is antithesis of any,

In none comprised.

.

.

.

eu poético
ou eu ferido
qual é invenção
e qual é ruído?

- AR

.

.

.

DEPOIS DE DRUMMOND

corpo corpo vasto corpo

se eu me chamasse matéria

seria ausência, não solução

corpo corpo vasto corpo

mais vasta é a contradição

- AR

.

.

.

building the stairway of abstraction

- czesław miłosz

.

.

.

Come, Holy Spirit,

bending or not bending the grasses

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

Saturday evening mood

.

.

We leave doors open for people 

who'll never knock again.

Stubborn human heart. Living 

for the maybes and the what-ifs.

- Albert Camus

. 

.

.

And the days are not full enough

And the nights are not full enough

And life slips by like a field mouse

                             Not shaking the grass.

- Ezra Pound

. 

.

.

I lean to you, numb as a fossil.

Tell me I'm here.

- Sylvia Plath

,

.

.

I haven't forgotten you. The nights are long and difficult.

- Frida Kahlo

.

.

.

Where are you, how are you, do you love me—

- Virginia Woolf

.

.

.

pelo vazio, pela avenida, pelos desfiladeiros mudos

- czesław miłosz

.

.

.

a bétula e a cigarra e o dom-fafe guardados na minha memória

- czesław miłosz

.

.

.

uma esperança cínica

- czesław miłosz

.

.

.

There are days that walk through me

and I cannot hold them.

- Katherine Larson

.

.

.

moro onde não sei

se vou morar

lá é quase agora

ou já não há

- AR

.

.

.

vítima de mim

me acuso sem defesa

pra ser esquecido

- AR

.

.

.

o amor é uma constante

.

.

o que teria destruído aquele homem, que acidente de percurso poderia reduzir um indivíduo àquela condição

- ayn rand em a revolta de atlas

.

.

.

um cansaço vago

- ayn rand em a revolta de atlas

.

.

.

Love means to learn to look at yourself

The way one looks at distant things

For you are only one thing among many.

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

Some people say we should not trust our eyes,

That there is nothing, just a seeming,

These are the ones who have no hope.

They think that the moment we turn away,

The world, behind our backs, ceases to exist,

As if snatched up the hands of thieves.

- Czesław Miłosz

,

.

.

FAITH

Faith is in you whenever you look

At a dewdrop or a floating leaf

And know that they are because they have to be.

Even if you close your eyes and dream up things

The world will remain as it has always been

And the leaf will be carried away by the waters of the river.

You have faith also when you hurt your foot

Against a sharp rock and you know

That rocks are here to hurt our feet.

See the long shadow that is cast by the tree?

We and the flowers throw shadows on the earth.

What has no shadow has no strength to live.

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

gmadalosso

.

.

When walking, I am asleep, when sleeping, I dream reality

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

Suddenly nobody knows where you are.

You’re just a memory,

an echo

- Janine Solursh

.

.

.

DOMESTIC INTERIOR

Shara McCallum

Pain enters through an open window

and you say it is the wind.

It marrows into beams, gutters

walls. Still you insist:

It is only a passing storm.

All while it seeps under your door—

long having eluded the watchman,

fallen asleep at his post—and floods

the whole damn house. Come daybreak,

you are a different kind of  hostage now,

as it weeps into your bowl of porridge,

casts itself  into the misshapen face

gleaming back at you from a tarnished spoon.

In time, you will make your bed

with this new order. In time,

you will simply make the bed and lie down.

.

.

.

I am scared to look at myself. Earth, do not abandon me.

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

I am afraid to stay here alone, I have nothing except my body

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

Nobody knew that work would divide a day

Into great toil and dead rest,

And that the moon would pause every spring

Above the sleep of the weary ones. In our hearts heavy beating

No spring for us anymore, nor love

- Czesław Miłosz

.

.

.

ASKED TO LEAVE

o teto já sonha sem mim.

meus dias:

três pássaros cegos

batendo na janela.

- AR

.

.

.

mood

.

.

PAIN AND SUFFERING

She recorded 

the silence

between us—

played it

back—made

me listen

- Andrea Cohen

.

.

.

SEPARATION

Your absence has gone through me

Like thread through a neddle.

Everything I do is stitched with its color.

- W. S. Merwin

.

.

.

I am so tired of waiting,

Aren't you,

For the world to become good

And beautiful and kind?

Let us take a knife

And cut the world in two -

And see what worms are eating

At the rind.

- Langston Hughes

.

.

.

There's no time or place or space where I'm not

searching for a language made of hands and wind

and nutrients, when I'm not researching a whole and

convenient form of nourishing them

- Maricela Guerrero

.

.

.

WELLNESS TIPS

Drink water.

Go outside.

Ignore the ache

inside your pride.

Breathe in silence.

Fake your sleep.

You'll feel much better

in the deep.

- AR

.

.

.

AVISO

Melhore logo.

Ou finja.

A tristeza incomoda

mais do que o grito.

- AR

.

.

.

MANUAL DE SOBREVIVÊNCIA

Evite a luz.

Ela ilumina demais.

E o mundo adora gente

que morre sem brilhar.

- AR

.