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Articles tagged "Birth And Rebirth"

Tunnel

The roads I walked didn't tire me, the plans I formed to kill myself didn't work, I did not diminish one bit, I did not increase I forgot the night I died in your nakedness. I found myself like an inner pain I neither escaped from your murder nor died there was blood around, it felt cold, desolate . . . Carrying a tunnel's wind-rush in me I passed through the agony, throughout the road, in time's fragments they reckoned me a shiver and yet, except for a...

Song of Seeing

Having lived many years in the scrub grass in the way of birds The boy took on a bird's kind of stare— He obtained a fountainesque vision. He observed things the way birds observed them. All the unnamed things. Water wasn't the word water yet. Rock not the word rock. They just were. Words were free of grammar and could inhabit any position. So it was the boy could inaugurate them as he pleased. He could give rocks the costumes of the sun. He could give song the...

(“Lengua”: María Zambrano)

The word's dawn is meaning's night I walk in springtime. The wild, strange, violent spring. Birdsong. The beginning of everything, verdure that seems to levitate. Death with a cig in its long holder Chiastic life Aristotle's reason, Parmenides' vision In every word beyond day and night, birth and death this attestation of the unspeakable. A pearl that goes from mouth to mouth. I shall bow down over the dead woman's body there in the...

In the Shade of the Almond Tree

Author's Note: Two major obstacles to happiness remain constant throughout the history of Haitian society: social and economic injustice, and totalitarian tendencies. Poverty can be as cruel as dictatorship in its effect on the individual. When the two join forces against the human spirit, the choices are limited: violence and madness, hopelessness and revolt. Because even in the depths of madness, revolt can lie dormant, only to erupt, savagely and uncontrollably, against those who...

When Clothes Were Small

NOTE: This poem is taken from a debut collection published in 2005, entitled Yesterday I Lost A Button. All of the poems in the book revolved around clothes-their personalities, their memories, and their desires. Only 24 years old at the time of the book's well-received publication, Fathy is a promising new name in Egyptian poetry. Neither thread had a desire to couple but they were forced and out of that union fabrics were born to a traditional, arranged marriage the...

La Terra Santa

I Insane asylum is a word much bigger than the dark vortex of dreams, yet it used to come once upon blue thread or a distant nightingale's song or your mouth opened, biting at the blue the fierce untruth of life. Or an invalid's ruthless hand slowly climbed your window syllabifying your name and when the foul number was finally loose you rediscovered all the seriousness of your life. II Affori, a distant town buried in filth, here you know beams and bolts and...

Two Poems

The Oracles of the Virgin Music is the art which is most nigh to tears and memory.--Oscar Wilde Buried inside us were the sounds of the words our parents managed to utter in the moment of intercourse before they fell silent at the wonder of budding life. Buried inside us were the sounds of the songs we heard in the cradle before our mothers had forgotten the oracles of the Virgin. Buried inside us were the sounds of the grinding of...

Groans

1 Here I am you alone In this mad, gaping Hell Here I am you alone and death altogether With its predators and its seers and the informers Perhaps I am arriving at The limit of my possibilities For you to arrive at the last Dream Flare up until you see me and Become complete until I see you My rose between two fires Inflaming me Hopefully I am inciting wisdom In this ruin I have tried To the end of the flower and the fire, Then, how have they isolated my...

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