Entre a Estética e o Esquecimento

Entre a Estética e o Esquecimento

Quero esquecer

TUDO.

Ordeno as coisas coleccionadas

nem sei para quê? Se afinal

amanhã tudo será matéria

prima para outros

fins

Quero olhar os ângulos

da casa e vê-los

nus

sem ornamentos desnecessários

a um progresso

da estética

bi-

-labial com certeza

húmidos ou secos, quero

beijá-los onomatopeicamente enquanto me

deleito na foz deste rio

onde o doce morre e a vida

acontece

Ordeno os porquês

de TUDO

arquivados desordenadamente

em estantes, caixas, armários, gavetas

e interrogo-lhes os pontos

com o desprezo da

familiaridade

e movimentos contidos mas

constantes

agilizam o fluir

de montante a jusante

câmara ante câmara

os seixos rolam

e a memória indelével das coisas

é agora uma amalgama -

imenso areal

do leito oceânico.

© José Coelho, 2015 

 

On the Aesthetics of Forgetfulness (or how it sums up after a 3rd Margarita)

On the Aesthetics of Forgetfulness

(or how it sums up after a 3^rd Margarita)

The wall stood

proud and silent as a stone

coherent

in time

As far as I know it was there

layer with layer, holding the strength

of history and morphology – trees

and earth bathing each other

moving slowly as

lovers -

since the beginning

and we drank

their geometry, a wise structure performing

angularities

Then, one day, a part of the wall

came down

As I lick the junction between

the nail of my

ring finger

and

the tiny fleshless band

at its base

waiting for skin

to grow

rebuilding memory patterns

I realize the gap

has been replaced with

hideous

cement blocks

© José Coelho, 2015

On Forgetfulness and Aesthetics (a 2nd attempt on explaining the title)

On Forgetfulness and Aesthetics

(a 2^nd attempt on explaining the title)

Around 4 pm the engine starts

In the nearby section, the pile

is growing

towards freedom -

unknown machine, thinking

above the water level, things

get rough, if not truly inclement

when you're naked

or a fish

too much fatness can kill you

too much memory, as well

let the body be less

body

beyond the flesh, beauty

is more

Letters, books, an old fan at pause

parked for ages - I count on your discretion

should the word rubbish

be heard

drowning

or the body be seen

rummaging through

foamy teeth grasp the essence

of material, as the last blister undoes

gravity

When the lines are hold together, they

don't exist and

the whole is a chamber of

pulchritude

unless structure

decays

Around 11 pm the engine stops

In the nearby section, the pile

is gone.

© José Coelho, 2015

Para uma Estética do Esquecimento / For an Aesthetics of Forgetfulness

Para uma Estética do Esquecimento

Entrou. Sem

pestenajar, sentou-se e olhou-me de frente.

Disse que queria falar-me de uma estética, nova,

porém a sombra ou o reflexo

de algo na mesa, cintilando, remexendo-se, parecendo até um cardume

de ideías que

engordava e emagrecia em anéis

de vento, distraiu-o. Então calou-se

e ficámo-nos por uma presença, discreta

entorpecida no meio do nada

até que a porta se abriu

e nos convidaram para a sessão de

grupo.

Hoje, lia-se. E eu, abalado ainda, tentei

dominar toda a minha vontade e concentração.

Beber água ajudava. Bebi e

tanto pensei no título, que me esqueci do conteúdo.

E dele, nem mais uma gota

restou.

For an Aesthetics of Forgetfulness

He came in. Without

blinking, he sat down and looked me in the eye.

Said he wanted to talk to me about one aesthetics, a new one,

but the shadow or reflection

of something on the table, glistening, fidgeting, even appearing a shoal

of ideas which

fattened and lost weight in wind

rings, distracted him. Then fell silent

and we became a presence, discreet

numb in the middle of nowhere

until the door opened

and we were invited to a group

session.

Today, it got read. And I, still shaken, tried

to master all my will and concentration.

Drinking water helped. I drank and

so much I thought about the title, I forgot the content.

And of him, not another drop

was left.

© José Coelho, 2015