tráiler: doce líneas
on my own in a seperate sky / each shade of blue... / and you'll be washed away / this is paralyzed / all these clovers in the ground / and with his fingers he will push / you’ll only get burned out / out where the dreams all hide / seems like streetlights glowing / and god it's weird / even still, even now / it's all between
3 comentarios:
Crepuscular y preciso...
Se pregunta al poema si el poema ha callado --habrá nacido, entonces: de sí mismo ha dejado doce sombras, esa mano que teje su núcleo iluminado... Debe ser un planeta que se hallaba desierto: los pechos de los hombres, los cantos de los pájaros --por su mano, habitados...
Tres veces, nueve veces, doce veces, doy gracias a esas manos...
Le quedó TAN bello, tan tan bello... Le mando un saludo enorme
f.
muy bello...
esa imágen de las streetlights glowing me recordó una de mis canciones favoritas de ani difranco... aunque no tiene exactamente un paralelismo pero igual se la dejo por acá porque es una joya:
the answer came
like a shot in the back
while you were running from your lesson
which might explain
why years later all you could remember
was the terror of the question
plus, you weren't listening
you were stockpiling canned goods
making a bomb shelter of our basement
and i can't believe you let the moral go by
while you were soaking in the product placement
where was your conscience?
where was your consciousness?
and where did you put all those letters
that you wrote to yourself
but could not address?
i'm a good kisser
and you're a fast learner
and that kinda thing could float us
for a pretty long time
then one day you'd realize
you've memorized my phone number
and you'll call it and find
it's a disconnected line
'cause i got tossed out the window of love's el camino
and i shattered into a shower of sparks on the curb
you were smoking me
weren't you?
between your yellow fingers
you just inhaled and exhaled without saying a word
where was your conscience?
where was your consciousness?
and where did you put all those letters
that you wrote to yourself
but could not address?
there's a smorgasbord of unspoken poisons
a whole childhood of potions
that are all bottled up
and so one by one i am dusting off labels
i am uncorking bottles and filling up cups
so go ahead and have a taste of your own medicine
and i'll have a taste of mine
but first let's toast to the lists
that we hold in our fists
of the things that we promise to do
differently next time
'cause the answer came like a shot in the back
while you were running from your lesson
which might explain
why years later all you could remember
was the terror of the question
plus i'm not listening to you anymore
my head is too sore and my heart's perforated
and i'm mired in the marrow of my well ain't that funny bone
learning how to be alone and devastated
where was my conscience?
where was my consciousness?
and what do i do with all these letters
that i wrote to myself
but cannot address?
http://mx.youtube.com/watch?v=ll_oPsJXe9Q
Por que cuando vengo me deja en n estado de afasia... ¿Es acaso una dulce alergia a la que soy propenso?
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