Rogue Scholar Posts
To live life like a Keith Jarrett improvisation a forceful subtleness a willingness to let things become surprising both difficult and sweet.
Esta no es una pipa. Es un rastro de vida; una memoria de infancia.
It is not clear what if anything we will leave behind for whom, what for, how long- it is not clear if we will have the right. Instead, even the rain stops falling for a while and filters through the cracks drops do drip and drip, brown into a marmalade jar, bricks rotting away (since the distant past) Everybody is out and about and you are cocooned, indoors shrouded by sirens, and echoes.
There is no thing as total stillness sound is movement then the wind there are clouds behind the sunshine I sit in a corner and count the pebbles the shade under a tree the leaves dance imperceptibly
Oui Je crois lucky find left it behind for others fortune
It came to me in a dream: a poem about poetry is not poetry the words we use are never ours it cannot rhyme, 'cause times have changed the flow is out of joint, as is our world no periods, no accents, except the one we speak with we write in tongues we were not born with it came to me in a dream I no longer remember only the voice of a friend asking where I was and we write like kittens licking a blank page on a typewriter our language sandpaper
Para Paty, Natalia y Camilla (salió en inglés).
