“That which I supposed to be the road to Hell is lined with angels. That which appeared as sordid shadows indeed holds its beam of light. Upon that narrow beam, stretched out taut like a tightrope, we all balance. Umbrellas held high, step by step, fearless dancers teetering over the abyss. There below, a net of wings supports our fall.”
- Caio Fernando Abreu
Noises - by Narcisa
I hear gunshots, drumbeats
Noise of motors
Airplanes taking off
Helicopters circulating…
What a crisis of sound!!!
What hearing!!!
Idioms.
Talking individuals
With their popular expressions…
Footsteps, tracks, coughs, hiccups, yawns…
Sighs, sneezes,
Drips, leaves rustling on rooftops
Hinges
Electric waves…
Brakes, sirens and horns
Barks, whistles, meows
The clatter of keyboards…
Visit Scabvendor em Portugues for other poems by Narcisa.
Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008. All Rights Reserved.
