En el centro de Ludlow
Se queda la cortina
semi-abierta
Una obra pisada
de muertos sueltos y vivos viejos
en un plano igual
El piano se aleja mandando señal
aullando de su esquina
Hacia los que cazan su tecla
Ausente
Tonight walking home was a man
he carried in air a whimsical tune
the louder and greater he sang
the more I supposed him an LES loon
———
” I wanna marry a lighthouse keeper and live down by the sea…”
He needed some wine and I needed bread
so we came to a store, where a sign it read
I turned round and said “you see?”
he said, “the sea”
“NO POETS ,” I said, “I guess we can’t go in..”
“THE SEA” he sang…..
“THEEEE SEEEEAAAAAA”
Mi sombra va silenciosa
por el agua de la acecia.
Por mi sombra están las ranas
privadas de las estrellas.
La sombra manda a mi cuerpo
reflejos de cosas quietas.
Mi sombra va como inmenso
cínife color violeta.
Cien grillos quieren dorar
la luz de la cañavera.
Una luz nace en mi pecho,
reflejado, de la acequia.
Lorca
passes through a kind of thought; this instinctive feeling that we must reject all categories
of fixed thought,
and all categories of imperial thought.
The All world trembles.
The All world trembles physically, geologically, mentally, spiritually..
Because the All world is looking for the point, not the station,
but the Utopian point where all the world’s cultures ,
all the world’s imaginations will meet and hear one another,
without dispersing or losing themselves… "
— hans ulrich obrist
