07 January 2008
They'll wear you down sometime, kiss the wine, magic Christians chew the rind
Cadillac CTS, Shop Window, and No Trespassing Sign, Pulaski
--four poems by Nicanor Parra
No praying allowed, no sneezing.
No spitting, eulogizing, kneeling
Worshipping, howling, expectorating.
No sleeping permitted in this precinct
No inoculating, talking, excommunicating
Harmonizing, escaping, catching.
Running is absolutely forbidden.
No smoking. No fucking.
These Idyllic Lovers
could be two ants
two eyes in the same face
two nostrils in the same nose
these motherfucking lovers
could be the sea the way they go up and down
could be the sun if those were sun spots.
The Situation is Getting Delicate
You only have to look at the sun
through a smoked glass
to know things are bad:
or maybe you think everything is fine.
I say we ought to go back
to cars pulled by horses
to steam-driven planes
to TV sets cut from stone
The old folks were right:
We have to go back and cook with wood again.
No President's Statue Escapes
From those infallible pigeons
Clara Sandoval used to tell us:
Those pigeons know exactly what they’re doing
Pavement's video for "Major Leagues" from Terror Twilight