outsiderlast time i was there i went to see brotheroutsider by berlinBuenosAyres
he took all his stuff, including the mattress, to the kitchen
where he spent the afternoons
from the roof we watched the churches where
people we knew had had their baptisms
and he smoked
up on the table
he kept a biography of giordano bruno
burnt at the stake on 1600
the martyr of the pantheist ideas
you can stay and watch the telly
or read, i'll be
back in the morning
and we can get breakfast in a petrol station,
he doesn't remember
on my previous life i was
28 years old
reading that law book on the seventh day
i marked this passage
for him to read
knowing he wouldn't
i stayed, slept with my clothes on
even the coat and
the scarf and the boots
night came in
left my arms numb my head restless
got nothing to tell
gotta keep my distance
steal a book or leave something legible
or do nothing
i walked to the station,
reflecting on the edifices,
a train to my second persona
In the shadow of a doubtThere I visited a fellow artiste who had fallen in hard times, nothing rare to the likes of us. Zelos, I knew, used to be a painter, and I got him to make a portrait of myself. I put on my cape and hat and told him to add my name, in red, 'The Incredible Sirahcni". I'd use it as the sign for my next act. I sat there and he painted, and we tried to hold a conversation:In the shadow of a doubt by berlinBuenosAyres
I had the most horrible dream last night. There was an elephant in my pocket, it changed to a lump of strange heavy metal and then again to an elephant, it talked to me. "Walk downstairs and go backwards." I did. The spiral staircase got smaller with each step. At some point I could not keep on going. It was the eternity, the end of the universe. It felt like a factory from the industrial revolution, and then I knew how to go backwards. It was so simple.
Elephants and staircases don't interest me, too mundane.
What would you know about the world?
It didn't work, the conversation. Before leaving we had te
i changed my name to opheliai feel stretched-out under this water,i changed my name to ophelia by pagan-poetess
like i'm being born for a second time, though i don't remember
the first instance to which i could make a comparison.
i'm moving slowly from the edge of the river, toes tangled
in slippery reeds. the sun beats down on me until clouds
come in and put out its light.
you're shouting something to me from the jetty,
your arms waving stupidly above your head,
but i'm ocean-bound baby.
i'm outta' this narrow place.
PlayLa música está en todos lados, esperando atacarte.Play by selenezca
Ya sé, nena, ya sé.
Pero no, no sabés. Vos no sabés nada, vos no viste el agujero. Se cayó el mp3 el otro día, viste, por la rejilla. Yo no entiendo nada pero vi que algún suicida ponía play y lo tiraba.
Y el agujero, de repente.
¿Cómo "el agujero"?
El coso boluda, el coso ese. El mundo no funciona bien y la música es el reflejo del mundo, el mundo puto que nos odia. Le puso play el muy conchudo. Play.
¿El mundo puso play?
No, no, el suicida. Después se lo tragó el agujero negro.
La canción debe estar enojada, la metieron en esa película de mierda, no me acuerdo el nombre; debe estar enojadísima.
Nos va a tragar a todos.
La canción agujero, sí, la canción agujero negro. La que escuchabas vos, la de los glaciares derritiéndose y las almas haciendo no sé qué.
Dicen que los cosos esos son port