You've got to dig to dig it, you dig?
La Llorona de los Cafetales de la película La Llorona
CRÉDITOS MUSICALES Dirección musical y arreglos (música): Andrea Bravo Arreglos (letra): Gaby Moreno Arreglos (música) y producción musical: Javier Mazariegos Supervisión musical: Herminio Gutiérrez Compositor original: Luis Martínez Serrano
The Scorpion and the Turtle. This earlier fable appears in the Anvaar Soheili, a collection of fables written c. 1500 by the Persian scholar Husayn Kashifi. via Wikipedia.
This American Life, Epsiode 389 : Frenemies, Act Four, by David Rakoff, 091109.
Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body’s treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and fall.
Love is too young to know what conscience is; (Sonnet 151), William Shakespeare
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness;
Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport;
Both grace and faults are loved of more and less;
Thou makest faults graces that to thee resort.
As on the finger of a throned queen
The basest jewel will be well esteem’d,
So are those errors that in thee are seen
To truths translated and for true things deem’d.
How many lambs night the stern wolf betray,
If like a lamb he could his looks translate!
How many gazers mightst thou lead away,
If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!
But do not so; I love thee in such sort
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; (Sonnet 96), William Shakespeare
The spring has many sounds:
Roller skates grind the pavement to noisy dust.
Birds chop the still air into small melodies.
The wind forgets to be the weather for a time
And whispers old advice for summer.
The sea stretches itself
And gently creaks and cracks its bones….
The spring has many silences:
Buds are mysteriously unbound
With a discreet significance,
And buds say nothing.
There are things that even the wind will not betray.
Earth puts her finger to her lips
And muffles there her quiet, quick activity….
Do not wonder at me
That I am hushed
This April night beside you.
The spring has many silences.
The Spring Has Many Silences, Laura Riding Jackson
As usual, Death sweetly slips her arm in mine—
& we take a deep breath from the eucalyptus breeze.
We both worked honestly at our jobs: all day Death
destroyed traffic with wailing ambulances while I killed
hours & lines on eight-&-a-half by eleven inch pages.
We’re fast friends by now, Death much older of course,
but there’s no hierarchy between us: we’re both taking
a break from it all, glad to watch waves collapse on rocks
& pelicans dive-bomb fish. I try to be sensitive to Death’s
guilt: that whole pandemic disaster she can no longer
control. She’ll soon betray me too—like she will you.
I know. But today the gulls are silver angels etching
great cursive blessings in a perfect sky—so Death & I
make believe we believe that, & amble on.
Late Afternoon Stroll on the Cliffs, Laure-Anne Bosselaar
Legna Rodríguez Iglesias on betrayal and a bit on movies.
Alejandro Chacoff, in New York Review, on Clarice Lispector and Brazilian crônica and fiction.
“… crônicas do feed on a certain amount of friction—strange incidents, uncomfortable interactions with strangers, conversations with cab drivers (Lispector has a couple of very good pieces on this topic). […] The crônica demands a certain capacity for boredom, for being open to fleeting, small scenes of the quotidian.”
In New Yorker, a Lispector lost interview. An article (2015).
“… thinking is not something that one person can do alone. It takes two people to have a thought” Rachel Aviv, New Yorker.
“the glory of the garden” (RS)
Legna Rodríguez Iglesias, Fácil, via theverseverse
EASY
You touch a woman
and she trembles
you spit her out and she comes out
covered in saliva
you can destroy
a woman
how do you destroy her?
easy
touch her
spit her out
touch her
spit her out
between one thing and another
tell her that all of a sudden
you have begun to love her
that simply
you just love her
and that’s it
finally touch her
and spit her out.
Also, An Interview with Legna Rodríguez Iglesias about Her Book My Favorite Girlfriend was a French Bulldog by Amanda Uhle (2020). “… I cannot conceive a piece without laughter or play. In that laugh and in that game is all the sadness, all the restlessness, all the anguish in the world.”
Founded in 1878, Translated by Serafina Vick.
Rum produced and matured in Cuba
is pleasing to the throat
of the man produced and matured in Cuba
the label of authenticity
that they put on the bottles
has a woman with a sword
and a lovely dress
that seduces men and women
white rum or dark rum
is pleasing to the throat
of the white man or the dark man
but the knot in the throat
no one can get rid of.
… A good day, then;
the voice as fresh as I remember.
I close my eyes to savor it
[…]
No wonder Orpheus, when he heard
the voice he’d played his lyre for
in the only season of his life that mattered,
could not believe she was anything
but who she’d always been to him, for him. . . .
Eurydice, Turning written by Rita Dove (Playlist for the Apocalypse); On Being 041122, read by Pádraig Ó Tuama.
“This, I think, is one of the intelligences of this poem, which is to find a way to allow yourself to change and, perhaps, to look for the stories that will support that.” Pádraig Ó Tuama.
Heterotopias, place that opens behind the surface, holds an over-there-ness, represent a “reservoir of imagination” (MF). Within the fold. A garden as a microcosmic world build out of the juxtaposition or arrangement of elements. Place with temporal shifts and/or fragments. A cruise ship. An airport.
