Sunday, May 3, 2015

riverbed


        “Au Hasard” by Dans Dans | [Figura solitária/Untitled, 1957, by Goeldi]


hailing the arrival of new wor(l)ds
with a cut in the mouth to drain the silence
she, who’d promised not to hark back
to the time when a first dawn flashed up before her
like a pelagic flower born of the abyss, effulgent, she
was in her spot, quiet, disgruntled harmonies
were perhaps…pervading the bedroom as a damp chill
slunk across the anemic-lighted asphalt outside
graciously rigged with a dragon fruit aroma at that time,
and the neighborhoodstretching itself awake
this and that arousing handfuls of poetic imagination…
the real, “yes, images burn once they touch the real,”
and so it went: the morning lit up her loneliness
while she set a white page down on her lap
and just remembered, gloomily enough, that they
didn’t even have or take a photograph
to thunder through in days of (riverbed-)distance.


1 comment:

aliterações ressoam said...

amanheço neste novo texto, gostoso de ler e de abraçar, e fico já pensando se hoje haverá. outro. de domingo. pra gente de novo (nele) (se) imaginar. beijo, Carol, tim-tim!