terça-feira, 15 de setembro de 2015

Dim Me!


Dim Me!

If I look at the stones
the trees
the skies above
a huge sense of anxiety
disrupts
me
as if a rope has been
cut
long ago, between
me and the rest

I need a fix
of thoughts
of memory
a bit of quartz in
my heart
and of green pulp in
my blood

Maybe that will dim
my perception
lower my
temperature
anesthetize my
emotions

so I can
breathe.

© 2015, José Eduardo Coelho


Poetic Picture #1


Poetic Picture #1
Her lurid face fills
the emptiness of space
with particles

of her own
ethereality – which I
adore

Convective shapes
rise
undulating

our names
as born fitting surfaces
in the vastness

of seas.
© 2015, José Eduardo Coelho


segunda-feira, 14 de setembro de 2015

Beyond Plain Patterns

For those blessed with
the vision
or the wish
to see beyond
plain patterns, there
are two possibilities
can it
or write poetry

© José Coelho, 2015



domingo, 13 de setembro de 2015

Saturday Evening

Saturday Evening

The TV is on

definitely uncomfortable
she speaks
introducing the upcoming movie

It's an historical drama of the post-war period; Italian director
story takes place in Salina – one of the Aeolian islands on the Tyrrhenian sea.

I usually love Italian movies. They're much more focused on the human condition, with things as love, friendship, honor, art, decadence and magic – yes, the magic of survival, the magic hidden in every days' life, in every body's sensuality or just in time – showing up in 1st plane.

I get up and prepare myself to the 90 minutes ahead. In the kitchen both dogs are asleep; just as the kids, upstairs and tat makes me feel entitled to rob time and use it to my own wish.

Silently
I walk, glass in one hand
crispy, salty peanuts' bag
in the other

I've done this so often. I know
the squeaking squares, their position
their mighty indifference constantly
waiting for my unresolved
distraction

as I move and rotate
gently, the knob on the door
caresses my skin – it's soft, inviting
a deeper and tender dissection
of my unsought emotions

I have to pee. I always seat – it's better
when you enjoy looking at the ceiling
as I do. Besides, you save time
and you drain better.

When I get back to my long chair, the movie has begun. A scooter gallops against the wind through an arid landscape. On the right side, the sea; on the left, parched fields of a pale yellow. Because of the hair, one can see that's a woman ridding.

The road seems endless.

© José Coelho, 2015


quinta-feira, 10 de setembro de 2015

Nothing Certain


Nothing Certain
Within 4 hours, your face
will join me
outside, in the cold of the night
That weightless sensation
whirling within us, as speed
writing surreal poems
by the side of the highway – maybe
it was all happening
inside, even the landscape
cascading into our irises
But hell, no!
Your face, as an angel of glass -
warm though -
and sugar, dripping
onto my face. You
licked it, though it was cold
and dark.


© 2015, José Eduardo Coelho


quarta-feira, 9 de setembro de 2015

Nothing Dubious

Nothing Dubious

There's nothing dubious
about sound. As we walk down
that path – or shall I say I, in singular
walking – down that path, the sound arrives
ordered by flavor, intensity
and a notion of expectation, direction

matters as much as
noise – the salt of sound – leading
to multiple reads

The wind – warmer than flowers
and gypsies – blows away the noise
so we - or shall I say I, in singular
walking – keep inhaling the blocks
of sound

arriving at the coast
like waves
of ordered strength, pushing
us forward

or shall I say I?
walking, in singular.


© 2015, José Eduardo Coelho



terça-feira, 8 de setembro de 2015

If This Is Me

If This Is Me

Today, I'll be the water
drip drinking your dust
fainting into earth's crevice
thinning out
memory

tomorrow you can find me
among the splinters of your
crystal voice -
I, a naked particle
with no aim
besides being
the multitude or eventually
a river, an ocean -
manoeuvring one side of
absentness
from north to south

and perhaps then
rising
to the clouds


© José Coelho, 2015