Círculo

Un cuerpo en el asfalto
dos pieles deseosas de tacto
en el bar alguien se acerca con un beso en la mano
una joven corre seguida por perros blancos
adolescentes siniestros esperan el gran momento
una navaja se adentra, un cuerpo en el asfalto
gritos en la noche
la danza del viento eleva cuerpos, prendas, mugre
cuánta multiplicidad de actos.

Dos pieles deseosas de tacto se adentran
espejos invisibles hieren un cuerpo
un hombre trasnochado recorre un largo corredor
amenazado abre puertas
ellos en el lecho no vieron el alba
cuánta multiplicidad de actos, un círculo, un círculo de miedo.

En el bar la sensual se entrega al ritmo
desde la oscuridad alguien observa
espera el justo momento de asirla a su piel
ojos, ojos, lamparones en la noche
el vino se derrama en los manteles
los ebrios se buscan y se adentran
cuánta multiplicidad de actos, un cuerpo en el asfalto.

Perros blancos ansían la carne más pura
vapores indeseables recorren un barrio sin luz
una joven corre seguida por perros blancos
adolescentes siniestros fuman
tranquilamente a la sombra del frío
un centinela desde su banco hace siluetas de humo
perros blancos desgarran la carne más pura
un cuerpo en el asfalto, un círculo, un círculo de miedo.

Eugenia Sánchez Nieto

TRANSLATION:

Circle

A body on the pavement
two skins desirous of being touched
in the bar someone comes near carrying a kiss
a young woman runs pursued by white dogs
sinister adolescents wait for the great moment
a jack knife stabs, a body on the pavement
shouts at night
the dance of the wind lifts up bodies, clothes, dust
such a variety of actions.

Two skins desirous of being touched get lost in thought
invisible mirrors wound a body
a haggard man goes along a long passage
threatened he opens doors
those in bed did not see the sunrise
such a variety of actions, a circle, a circle of fear.

In the bar the sensual woman surrenders herself to the rhythm
from a dark corner someone observes her
he waits for the right moment to grasp her
eyes, eyes, flashes at night
wine spilt on the tablecloths
the drunkards look for one another and then get lost
such a variety of actions, a body on the pavement.

White dogs yearn for the cleanest meat
undesirable vapours sweep over dark neighborhoods
a young woman runs pursued by white dogs
sinister adolescents smoke
calmly protected by the cold
a watchman on a bench makes smoke circles
white dogs tear up the cleanest meat
a body on the pavement, a circle, a circle of fear.

Thought for the day

“In mirrors and especially in photographs, I notice that I have grown old. But it is what is young in me that notices it. It is a young man who sees an old one. He is amazed– without bitterness and with respect, the way youth regards old age among noble people (in China, for instance). My youth respects my old age. My old age protects my youth. That is why I am at peace.”

Jean Cocteau

What She Was Wearing

this is my suicide dress
she told him
I only wear it on days
when I’m afraid
I might kill myself
if I don’t wear it

you’ve been wearing it
every day since we met
he said

and these are my arson gloves

so you don’t set fire to something?
he asked

exactly

and this is my terrorism lipstick
my assault and battery eyeliner
my armed robbery boots

I’d like to undress you he said
but would that make me an accomplice?

and today she said I’m wearing
my infidelity underwear
so don’t get any ideas

and she put on her nervous breakdown hat
and walked out the door

Denver Butson

Reaching

Each morning at the beach
people search the empty
stretches for treasure, reach

their hands in, pull peach
pits out and cans, empty
each one. Mourning the beach’s

lost promise, seagulls screech
for scraps of food, empty
stretch after stretch of treasure. Reach

and let go, says the tide, each
wave a wave of empti-
ness these mornings at the beach.

I learn to love the bleached
sand’s color, let my mind empty,
stretch. I let each want go, reach

up like a spinnaker to leach
light from the otherwise empty
sky. Each morning at the beach,
this open, outstretched reach.

Gwen Hart

BEANNACHT

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colors,
indigo, red, green
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight

When the canvas frays
in the boat of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

Thought for the day

Those Who Sacrifice Liberty For Security Deserve Neither

Benjamin Franklin

In a world of strangeness, things don’t come more stranger than this…?

Take a look at this website. Is it me, or is this really weird?

Thought for the day

“I have seen your future and I don’t like it”

Vladimir Bukovsky

Thought for the day

“A political party that’s in too long is like a piece of meat. If it’s there too long it will go rotten and they’ve gone rotten and they’ve got to go. Gordon Brown has never been elected by anybody. I’m supposed to be in a country where I get the chance to elect someone and I’ve been around here at the most dangerous of times led by a man who’s never been elected by anybody.”

Michael Caine

Is this the true face of the djinn?

They can be good, they can be evil. The Qur’an tells us that Satan (in Arabic Iblis) is the ultimate djinn and that he refused to bow down before Adam when ordered to by Allah.

So could this be a photograph of a djinn? It was observed in the Doha Corniche’s carpark by a woman.

She took a picture of it in spite of being terribly frightened.
“She was very soon surrounded by a large number of people who also attested to the fact of what she had seen.”

Ummm, the truth is out there somewhere…