Here it is! From Portugal with love, C-19 Litehouse was delivered to me. I am so happy to see my poem published here together with the beautiful illustration by Nadia Chamorra. Thank you Danae Spyrou for making this possible.
Birds are falling I don't know where this night comes from A hole in the tissue. A crack where it leaks Oily and crunchy. A celebration. We parasitize Under its breasts full of black milk. Paul Celan said 'language is my country'. I speak four languages but I am a stranger . A beautiful immigrant you can play with. A doll endlessly repeating the same words. 'Mama' 'mama' 'mama'. In my genetic code So many words entrenched (why do I fear them?) I look through a magnifying glass. I zoom and cut up. They retract. Such a tremendous surgery. I proceed with a delicate operation. Words keep coming back from submarines, undergrounds, dark corridors. Obli -gation Vio -lence On -going process Oblivion. There is an error. Irrepressible. Error. organic as water. You rather take my hand. We'll play chess on the edges of memory. Every time I win, you cut words. Every time you win I cut words. My organs are be...
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