Juro

juro, estimados amigos meridionais, que não sou responsável por esta chuva. ainda que a quisesse ter trazido - por masoquismo ou distorcido saudosismo -, não tinha nem um coisímetro cúbico de espaço na bagagem.

está mesmo jeitoso para uma bebida quente e amena cavaqueira na sala aquecida de um qualquer café.

Rota Fortunae

one more turn of the wheel. full circle. twelve on the clock. and amsterdam's grachtengordel hemicycle is done running its course. i leave, not in tears but in raindrops.

Onkelboerensteeg

farewell onkelboerensteeg
it’s been
- how should i put it –
sort of f-

no

disgus-

it' been a plea-

mostly a disgr-

hel-

well, interes-

it was really like, y'know

perhaps unforg-

terrif-

unfortu-

hmm

coo-

or maybe absu-.

.

ah, sod it. farewell onkelboerensteeg.

Mostrengo

"o mostrengo que está no fim do mar
na noite de breu ergueu-se a voar;
à roda da nau voou três vezes,
voou três vezes a chiar,
e disse, «quem é que ousou entrar
nas minhas cavernas que não desvendo,
meus tectos negros do fim do mundo?»
e o homem do leme disse, tremendo,
«el-rei d. joão segundo!»

«de quem são as velas onde me roço?
de quem as quilhas que vejo e ouço?»
disse o mostrengo, e rodou três vezes,
três vezes rodou imundo e grosso.
«quem vem poder o que só eu posso,
que moro onde nunca ninguém me visse
e escorro os medos do mar sem fundo?»
e o homem do leme tremeu, e disse,
«el-rei d. joão segundo!»

três vezes do leme as mãos ergueu,
três vezes ao leme as reprendeu,
e disse no fim de tremer três vezes,
«aqui ao leme sou mais do que eu:
sou um povo que quer o mar que é teu;
e mais que o mostrengo, que me a alma teme
e roda nas trevas do fim do mundo,
manda a vontade, que me ata ao leme,
de el-rei d. joão segundo!»"

fernando pessoa

Time

is running out and tasks accumulate
like specks of dust on a carpet-clad amsterdam attic.

Black hole

i do not mean to alarm you but they say from today on we may all be swallowed by a homegrown (swiss-made™) black hole, any moment.

just in case it's too dark in there to tell friend from foe
let me declare:

it's been a pleasure.

tiqueTAQUEtiqueTAQUEtiqueTAQUE

countdown: T minus 1 month.

.
como qualquer emigrante
de estirpe
regresso
no sud-express a tempo de celebrar a implantação da república.

"In a Station of the Metro"

the apparition of these faces in the crowd;
petals on a wet, black bough.

.

ezra pound

(met dank aan pia)

Scale matters

from its earthly platform, hong kong rises high towards the sky, nay, the sun, babel all over again will we ever learn? multicoloured and multitongued and multidreamt and multibelieving, there must be a limit to the melting capacity of this cement pot. the stew must clog. and yet the city keeps stirring and stirring, it bubbles upwards, desperate to raise its treasures above the boiling ground so they can gently simmer au bain marie.

these four walls and semitranslucent ceiling have a strange effect on me. needles aimed at the sun now seem like pictures from a fantasy book, and yet fantasy has seldom been so tangible. i am able to squeeze the spirits if i choose to, and despite my protests they coil into my nostrils in smoke and they feel divine. but spirits are fragile things and come with no handling instructions, i think i will just abstain from touch. these spirits are red. and instead of roaming the vast universe, they prefer the damp obscurity, the discrete secrecy of this room. that suits me fine, maybe i will stay until the rain stops.

ah, now i see. this city is empty of people. and through its avenues, like heavy fog, parades money. this is where finance comes on a holiday, to eat ice-cream and go on a rollercoaster. a giant waterpark where all currencies bump into each other, shout in a thousand amused languages, and after which i'm sure they'll end up making love.

colour. colour? and so much of it too? where was colour when i peeked through the clouds onto the playground of wealth? maybe it was all hiding in white, colour has been known to do that sometimes, a little ingenious trick that physicists have cracked long ago. but with its warmth it now reveals a surprising array of human things. voice and intelligence. sentiment. and also hair. the sun is about to set, and the human mass slowly building into a throng hungers for beauty. i am promised the sublime in a couple of hours - no small print - but for the time being i am content with this metallic rainbow.

look at me. i am the sparkling jewel, i am the vanquisher of the dark and the sanitised navel of the world. i am hong kong, king kong, ping pong, yin yang, sing along, splash bam zing bong, and i have come to muscle through your scepticism and shake you. look at me, look at me, i say. i will count to three. onetwothree. you are mine.

"Este parte, aquele parte

e todos todos se vão
galiza ficas sem homens
que possam partir teu pão"

ele há dias assim esmigalhados,

ensanduichados que estão

entre a partida

deste

e a partida

daquela.

Ta-ta

on this, the night of prodigies
when daytime reaches its summit and some up north tan in their sleep
on this, the night of prodigies
when at the stroke of a whistle a roaring pride of orange lions metamorphosed into benign sheep
on this, the night of prodigies - as i was saying - i take my leave.
.
the orient (oh you racist you, how dare you, you neocolonialist swine you) awaits.
.
ta-ta

Pen sun doe

são duas e vinte e sete da matina, por acaso não fulge lua nenhuma, e eu tenho estado a ler sobre didáctica de língua estrangeira para adultos. mas por mais empolgante que seja a tarefa, foi necessária esta cantiguinha para me convencer da pertinência do assunto.

.

'ass taz pear d.n. dwell t.m. poe pen sun doe pen sun doe'

.

Postcard from Dresden

dear barbara-anne,

greetings from dresden, germany. i hope everything's ok back there in san antonio. i sure miss watching the spurs, these guys here have no clue about basketball. yesterday someone won some soccer match and they all went bonkers, honking and drinking and shouting all night long.
i arrived two days ago, to blazing sun - you gotta love the tropics. the town is very purty, i've already seen like all the tourist spots and taken all the tourist pictures, so now i don't need to move an inch. moving an inch might even be deadly, mind you, because here bikes ride on the sidewalks and you step off the tram directly onto the road - man, it's like so backward here! so now i just lounge in the sun all day long sipping like apfelschorle and stuff. i got tickets for a concert at the opera this evening (booooring, the things a tourist has to go through in good ol' europe!), but i'm so relaxed writing this postcard right now that i'll be late for sure. never mind, i'm sure they won't start on time, i heard they're all like that here in europe. except for the brits. but i won't be doing britain this time round.
alright, time to go. you must be wondering 'how can this guy squeeze so much text on a tiny little postcard like this?'. well, it's a gift. i sure hope you've got a magnifying glass.
take care,

joe

Eu vou!

a macau