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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Laura Kasischke - March

It’s the murderer who got away with it, sitting
on a park bench, thinking about snow

and how it’s over. Little flower-faces peeking
out of dirt to shriek Hello!

While mothers wheel babies by, absurdly
bright. Businessmen in amber. And the light

on steeples served up in cones of white. But —
something here is also not quite right. Old

lady in a little girl’s bonnet. Ugly dog with
a child’s smile. Always, it seems, in

spring you’ll find someone with regrets
she’s allowed herself to forget:

Eye at the keyhole. Milk in the saucepan, and
that strange kiss that went on and on and on.

Laura Kasischke - Dois poemas.

Laura Kasischke é uma autora americana premiada, vive no Michigan, escreve poesia e romances. O seu livro "The Life Before Her Eyes" já deu um filme com Uma Thurman, mas este post é sobre a sua mais recente coleção de poemas, de nome "Space, in Chains". Ganhou o National Book Critics Award na categoria de poesia e tem um Rothko na capa ("Number 8", 1952). Que mais podia eu querer.

Aqui abaixo, apenas dois poemas, escolhidos de repente, mas que mostram tudo o que a sua escrita transpira: o domínio da língua inglesa, dos seus sons, dos seus ritmos, a riqueza melancólica das imagens, a capacidade para invocar sentimentos, empatia, tristeza, amor, perda, sem nunca cair no vulgar. O segundo poema devia ser já uma canção.

 

Your Last Day

 

So we found ourselves in an ancient place, the very

air around us bound by chains. There was

stagnant water in which lightning

was reflected, like desperation

in a dying eye. Like science. Like

a dull rock plummeting through space, tossing

off flowers and veils, like a bride. And

 

also the subway.

Speed under ground.

And the way each body in the room appeared to be

a jar of wasps and flies that day - but, enchanted,

like frightened children's laughter.

 

 

The key to the tower

 

There was never

There was never

A key to the tower

 

There was never a key to the tower, you fool

 

It was a dream

It was a dream

A mosquito's dream

 

A mosquito dreaming in a cage for a bird

 

It's October

It's October

The summer's over

 

Your passionate candle in a pumpkin's head

And the old woman's hand in this photograph

Appears to be nailed to the old man's hand

 

And the sky

And the sky

And the sky above you

 

Is a drunken loved one asleep in your bed

 

And the tower

And the tower

And the key to the tower

 

There was never a key to the tower I said

 

And this insistence

This insistence

It will only bring you sorrow

 

Your ridiculous key, your laughable tower

 

But there was

There was

A tower here

 

I swear

 

And the key

And the key

I still have it here somewhere