Mensagens

A mostrar mensagens de Fevereiro, 2012

blood

half carcass
bleeding out at the slaughterhouse

the wound too wide
to stop the haemorrhage



we hoped it wasn't a metaphor

during the last week of your life
you said (and kept us hoping):

when I get out of here
I want to swim in a large calm pool of warm water.

get my swimming suit ready

we made plans



honeydew melon

arguably, Santini makes the best ice cream in Portugal. on Friday, the 10th of February 2012, I went to Lisbon to register at last the copyright for the album I wrote and made for you, Inês. on my way to Rossio station, I decided I’d buy you your favourite ice cream: Santini’s honeydew melon. I bought a half-litre styrofoam box, which would keep the ice cream for an hour. I caught a taxi and instructed the driver to rush to the hospital, for I didn’t know how much longer you’d be alive. the driver understood, and screeched and honked us across Lisbon traffic, and then like a mad bullet down the motorway. in under 20 minutes, he got me to the hospital, where I ran down the endless, freezing hallway towards your ward, your bed no. 12. and found you asleep. alive. the bed not nightmarishly empty. I awoke you with a dash of honeydew melon, and you sucked on it, breathed it in, a sunbeam in your fading mind. my tears blended in with the flavour. there was so little of you then. you never …

what you taught us

        (the light shone on me
        between the preserved foods section
        and the fresh fish counter.
        bling. nonetheless real.
                      bling.)

   through all the pain and all the sorrow
through knowing that I’ll have to live

             w i t h o u t   y o u

   for a score of years,
   I see this now:

  the time is here
  to master my tomorrows
  to become my masterpiece
  to determine my freedom.

when tonight's night falls
I shall look up
at                      Orion & Mars
and shape my future

you always said so,
I could always've done this.

I am the power

                                                       now.

without you.

two words that hurt me to the bone

farewell

Imagem
you were my country
you were my religion
now you're in the grave
where I shall lie too

and one day our atoms will recombine
into a new possibility