Little Surgery

*Little Surgery*

When this city became a sequence

of names, paper based

memories filling the air with that

typical oxygenless odor

family decay bending stalks

thick as trees, names listed on both

sides of streets, sticking their endocrine flavor

upwards, the sky a worn out organism

pressing its blue against what used to be

the velvet of skins

Neither of us

remained, neither of us captured

the moment the seagulls

departed

though it was long depicted

on walls and written within books

All these years now, I have been dreaming

whether they miss that something

as much as I do; perhaps

the coming season

I will check around what

was left or

reborn alike and I plan to include

you.

© 2017, José Coelho

Flowers and Seahorses

*Flowers and Seahorses*

During these days I practice

my thoughts' pleat subject to

technique and pellucid

neglect

typical of twilight zones where

flowers and seahorses

linger, self-absorbed by their own

beauty and undergoing a kind of seduction, they

make the interior of assiduous vulvas

throb

During these days reality hurts in abundance

like watermelons and knives alternating

kisses and caresses still visible on wet

leaves, vegetables grow

from the walls and from the bosom of this earth

memories of when she was good

sprout.

© 2017, José Coelho

Limits

We tend to walk into ourselves

slowly, approaching a sort of us

under a successive sequence of

trials.

© 2017, José Coelho

Flores e Cavalos Marinhos

Flores e Cavalos Marinhos

Por estes dias pratico

a dobra dos meus pensamentos sujeitos

à técnica e ao abandono

pelúcido

característicos das zonas de penumbra onde

flores e cavalos-marinhos

se demoram, ensimesmados pela sua própria

beleza e em jeito de sedução fazem

latejar o interior de vulvas

assíduas

Por estes dias a realidade fere em abundância

como melancias e facas alternando

os beijos e carícias ainda visíveis nas folhas

húmidas, vegetais crescem

das paredes e do seio desta terra

saem memórias de quando ela

era boa.

© 2017, José Coelho

Fit To One's Name

Fit To One's Name

Simple is dying everyday. While

letters are being written the sun twists

its colors – weak embryos of nights – and

rests. Through eyes then killed

histories of lives seeking the only purpose

fit to one's name and

crumbling hearts. A side effect

not to despise, whether enjoyable or not

to be proven

yet.

© 2017, José Coelho

Possibilidades / Possibilities

Qual astro à deriva no firmamento
assim eu me deixo
guiar por equações da física emocional;
talvez um dia colida
na rota de um corpo maior
com esse que da poeira
me trará em seu
céu.
-----------------------------------------------

As a star adrift in the firmament so I let myself be guided by equations of emotional physics; maybe one day I will crash on the route of a larger body with whom from dust will bring me into his heaven.

© 2017, José Coelho

Tempo Nocturno

Sempre
a noite encostando a superfície
dos seus lábios, a mim, vidro
expectante pássaro inodoro, observo
o meu próprio silêncio
numa queda de mil
apneias rumo ao céu - lá
onde os gritos divergem de
azul em fêmea e de rosa em
carícia

© 2017, José Coelho