Poemas

 

 in this world we walk on the roof of hell gazing at flowers Kobayashi Issa

The man hanging out of the wrecked car was still alive as I passed, and I stopped, grown more used to the idea now of how really badly broken he was, and made sure there was nothing I could do. He was snoring loudly and rudely. His blood bubbled out of his mouth with every breath. He wouldn't be taking many more. I knew that, but he didn't, and therefore I looked down into the great pity of a person's life on this earth. I don't mean that we all end up dead, that's not the great pity. I mean that he couldn't tell me what he was dreaming, and I couldn't tell him what was real. Denis Johnson Jesus' Son

When he went back to the fire he knelt and smoothed her hair as she slept and he said if he were God he would have made the world just so and no different. — Cormac McCarthy (The Road)

No list of things to be done. The day providential to itself. The hour. There is no later. This is later. All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes. So, he whispered to the sleeping boy. I have you. Cormac MacCarthy, The Road

para m. neste caminho nesta hora aberta em que se respira fundo, finalmente, o espaço e a luz do dia. onde tudo parece finalmente respirar há no ar e nas coisas um início como se um peso um manto se levantasse e eu visse de novo algo que não me lembrava de ter perdido, algo que não tem palavra certa, aquela calma forte a que à falta de termo mais fluido chamamos de felicidade que respira e morre e corre de novo por entre os afluentes das horas e que é a raiz da raiz de ser e são as fontes a água que corre. vieste num dia como hoje e trazias água nas conchas da mão vieste assim recta com o cabelo solto. assim descalça com os olhos acesos de verde nas mãos só a água e em ti uma promessa de início. abriste portas pelos dias os meses abriste gavetas e soltou-se o cheiro de terra molhada o trovão assim na redondez dos ombros na pele e no sangue nas lágrimas e calor das horas nas mãos que vi que toquei frias e nos sorrisos que abriste nas linhas das mãos nas unhas rachadas nas rugas que se a...