Thursday, November 29, 2012

Sonhar com Sangue


Blood, blood, innumerable arms
All of the people yielding
at once to the force
of these feral stones
Brain? a blowfish, a squash, but knotted with blood
that threads round after beating is done
Not the bloody days of books and years
I fascinate the man on the street, 'Of course,' he says
'You curved your body to be played and trounced'


Once in awhile we'll idealize
It is what it is, we don't get it yet
We reshape to fit
an identity cast in agony


At the bargaining table
Be artless and demure
Let your arms quake 
If we don't get what I want


Blood, blood, innumerate terms
The views of another
found lifeless out of many
one brain chasing itself through open doors and windows
just as we were about to close them
The paroxysm had begun. 'Give in, give in.'
'We're doing this for you' I said with one voice
'I can't bear disobedience'
His face black as Macbeth.

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