Old Electricity Factory of Lisbon
Outline
Heróis do Mar / Nobre Povo / Nação Valente e Imort…
Who is there?
I think this tie would be useful one day
Dead Light
THE LOOP
A BELEZA DO CORPO É A BELEZA DA ALMA
We walk all masked but unimpressive
Big-bang Theory
Wednsday of Ashes
LEFT
JONAH will be split out...
Threshold (21)
Have a nice breakfast
"ROMEO AND JULIET - A History of Cats"
Watchdog
All can change by the wind
Threshold (22)
It's hard to be old
Light and Darkness
Love Is Love
I have all the time (2)
There we go singing and laughing taken taken by...
I have all the time (1)
Things
Portugal à Gargalhada
Palm's Geometry
The new generation
The breathing apparatus
Lisboa ex-libris
The Sleeping Beauty
Centro Clínico Champalimaud
For future memory
Cinema ODEON
My generation is fully justified
City Viewers (2)
Hairdos in the Wind
BOAS FESTAS
See also...
Keywords
Authorizations, license
-
Visible by: Everyone -
All rights reserved
-
796 visits
The World's Smallest Man
Today I make you the world's smallest man.
You are so small I open my hand and you dance
on the great landscape of my palm.
You are a thin stick of a man. When you stretch out
along my life line, your feet touch my wrist
and your head rests below my índex finger.
You are a small man, but like a small dog
you are unaware of your size. Sometimes
you go missing for days then jump out
and shout "surprise"! But you do not mean surprise.
I decide to make you smaller, the size
of an insect. Now you can walk upside down.
I think of all the places I could leave you
now you are smaller than the lightest
water boatman, but you keep shrinking
till you are less than a grain of salt,
so small you are living on my skin.
And once I breathe, I breathe you in.
by Kim MOORE, in "THE POETRY REVIEW", Volume 104:4, Winter 2014
(photo taken from Internet; edited by Armando TABORDA)
You are so small I open my hand and you dance
on the great landscape of my palm.
You are a thin stick of a man. When you stretch out
along my life line, your feet touch my wrist
and your head rests below my índex finger.
You are a small man, but like a small dog
you are unaware of your size. Sometimes
you go missing for days then jump out
and shout "surprise"! But you do not mean surprise.
I decide to make you smaller, the size
of an insect. Now you can walk upside down.
I think of all the places I could leave you
now you are smaller than the lightest
water boatman, but you keep shrinking
till you are less than a grain of salt,
so small you are living on my skin.
And once I breathe, I breathe you in.
by Kim MOORE, in "THE POETRY REVIEW", Volume 104:4, Winter 2014
(photo taken from Internet; edited by Armando TABORDA)
funtor, Renate, , Chrissy and 10 other people have particularly liked this photo
- Keyboard shortcuts:
Jump to top
RSS feed- Latest comments - Subscribe to the comment feeds of this photo
- ipernity © 2007-2024
- Help & Contact
|
Club news
|
About ipernity
|
History |
ipernity Club & Prices |
Guide of good conduct
Donate | Group guidelines | Privacy policy | Terms of use | Statutes | In memoria -
Facebook
Twitter
Armando Taborda club has replied to .t.a.o.n.Armando Taborda club has replied to Ulrich John clubArmando Taborda club has replied to Sylvie CoefficStunning Shots on Black
www.ipernity.com/group/449269
Armando Taborda club has replied to ╰☆☆June☆☆╮ clubAnyway, thanks much!
By Chana Bloch
1
FAT
is the soul of this flesh.
Eat with your hands, slow, you will understand
breasts, why everyone
adores them—Rubens’ great custard nudes—why
we can’t help sleeping with
pillows.
The old woman in the park pointed,
Is it yours?
Her gold eye-teeth gleamed.
I bend down, taste the fluted
nipples, the elbows, the pads
of the feet. Nibble earlobes, dip
my tongue in the salt fold
of shoulder and throat.
Even now he is changing,
as if I were
licking him thin.
2
HE SQUEEZES his eyes tight
to hide
and blink! he’s still here.
It’s always a surprise.
Safety-fat,
angel-fat,
steal it in mouthfuls,
store it away
where you save
the face that you touched
for the last time
over and over,
your eyes closed
so it wouldn’t go away.
3
WATCH HIM sleeping. Touch
the pulse where
the bones haven’t locked
in his damp hair:
the navel of dreams.
His eyes open for a moment, underwater.
His arms drift in the dark
as your breath
washes over him.
Bite one cheek. Again.
It’s your own
life you lean over, greedy,
going back for more.
Chana Bloch, "Eating Babies" from The Past Keeps Changing
Armando Taborda club has replied to Steve Bucknell clubThanks for divulging, Steve!
Sign-in to write a comment.