Calor el que yo siento en esta noche de invierno. Ganas de desabrocharme el cinturon que no tengo y buscar conflictos junto a la ventana del callejon humeante. I'm looking for trouble, but trouble is so far away...
"My business is words. Words are like labels, or coin, or better, like humming bees. I confess I am only broken by the sources of things; as if words were counted like dead bees in the attic, unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings. I must always forget how one word is able to pick out another, to manner another, until I have got something I might have said... but did not. [...]"
Anne Sexton
Words can be almost inconceivably tricky or cunning. Adjectives are really adverbs and adverbs disguised into adjectives. Hardly, scarcely understanding how solidly, stiffly, rigidly and strongly you felt about it all last night. I, my dear, know it perfectly and feel the same, or perhaps a little more painfully, urgently, or furiously than you would care to imagine. These are hard feelings to carry, my darling, my beloved, my dearest lover, mon ami, mon chéri, mon amour, Antonio mío,
Te vas a dormir, piensas en tu cinturón que no tienes, y en el lío que buscas junto a mí, y es el lío que te encuentra a ti, con gramática y léxico entreverado, idiomas entremezclados, ¿en qué idioma me piensas? No es una pregunta ya que a veces sueñas entre mis brazos.
Words! A precise and misleading army of meaning. In the beginning was the word, and the word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and stiffness, especially in the long winter nights. And the fleshy word has a keen propensity to looking for trouble were trouble is not; decorated with a badge, hard but tender, the flesh wanders across foggy alleys and over the snow of the North, surrounded by vampires empty of blood and murderers without victims. Yes, the word is looking for you and you are not. Such is the flesh with a hard badge’s fate.
(Anthony McCarmon).
Para responder a tu no pregunta, te dire que te pienso en el idioma de las manos; han alcanzado tal elocuencia que son la admiracion de los sordos y el pasmo de los mudos, sobre todo la izquierda que tiene mucho amor propio. Y como no es cuestion de hacer una competicion de urgencias, he decidido salir a comprarme un cinturon para desarmar a la realidad de retorica. Con mi esplendido cinturon nuevo, espero alcanzar la fortuna del conflicto, el lio o el barullo entreverado contigo. Que no sea por gramatica!
Calor el que yo siento en esta noche de invierno. Ganas de desabrocharme el cinturon que no tengo y buscar conflictos junto a la ventana del callejon humeante. I'm looking for trouble, but trouble is so far away...
ResponderEliminarI miss you. Hardly.
a.v.
"My business is words. Words are like labels, or coin, or better, like humming bees.
ResponderEliminarI confess I am only broken by the sources of things;
as if words were counted like dead bees in the attic, unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings.
I must always forget how one word is able to pick out another, to manner another, until I have got something I might have said...
but did not. [...]"
Anne Sexton
Words can be almost inconceivably tricky or cunning. Adjectives are really adverbs and adverbs disguised into adjectives. Hardly, scarcely understanding how solidly, stiffly, rigidly and strongly you felt about it all last night. I, my dear, know it perfectly and feel the same, or perhaps a little more painfully, urgently, or furiously than you would care to imagine. These are hard feelings to carry, my darling, my beloved, my dearest lover, mon ami, mon chéri, mon amour, Antonio mío,
Te vas a dormir, piensas en tu cinturón que no tienes, y en el lío que buscas junto a mí, y es el lío que te encuentra a ti, con gramática y léxico entreverado, idiomas entremezclados, ¿en qué idioma me piensas? No es una pregunta ya que a veces sueñas entre mis brazos.
Un beso firme sobre tus labios.
Inés
Words! A precise and misleading army of meaning. In the beginning was the word, and the word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and stiffness, especially in the long winter nights. And the fleshy word has a keen propensity to looking for trouble were trouble is not; decorated with a badge, hard but tender, the flesh wanders across foggy alleys and over the snow of the North, surrounded by vampires empty of blood and murderers without victims. Yes, the word is looking for you and you are not. Such is the flesh with a hard badge’s fate.
ResponderEliminar(Anthony McCarmon).
Para responder a tu no pregunta, te dire que te pienso en el idioma de las manos; han alcanzado tal elocuencia que son la admiracion de los sordos y el pasmo de los mudos, sobre todo la izquierda que tiene mucho amor propio. Y como no es cuestion de hacer una competicion de urgencias, he decidido salir a comprarme un cinturon para desarmar a la realidad de retorica. Con mi esplendido cinturon nuevo, espero alcanzar la fortuna del conflicto, el lio o el barullo entreverado contigo. Que no sea por gramatica!
Labios donde no se ve.
a.v.