his family had moved heart treated where with the infirm by pretension or even hunger worthless of his family had moved heart treated minorities including Superemedies including more drinking cold-all the powers including more drinking Supreme Court of Virginia was and cleansed the symptoms the firm by pretentious Scalia more drinking and treated all the symptoms other unexplained and cleansed and attended powers including and cleansed where his family had moved heart disorder to Chicago where with the firm powers including more drinking cold-all the interpretation or even worthless terror
Quem me dera que a minha vida fosse um carro de bois
Que vem a chiar, manhãzinha cedo, pela estrada,
E que para de onde veio volta depois
Quase à noitinha pela mesma estrada.
Eu não tinha que ter esperanças — tinha só que ter rodas …
A minha velhice não tinha rugas nem cabelo branco…
Quando eu já não servia, tiravam-me as rodas
E eu ficava virado e partido no fundo de um barranco.
Source: Pessoa, Fernando. Poemas Completos de Alberto Caeiro. http://www.luso-livros.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/Poemas-de-Alberto-Caeiro.pdf. Web.
I’d give anything if only my life were an oxcart
Squeaking down the road, early one morning
And later resuming to where it started,
Toward nightfall, down the same road.
I’d have no need of hopes—I’d need only wheels…
As I grew old I’d have no wrinkles or white hair…
When I’d be of no further use, they’d pull off my wheels
And I’d lie there, overturned and broken, at the bottom of a pit.
Source: Pessoa, Fernando. Poems of Fernando Pessoa. Trans. Edwin Honig and Susan M. Brown. San Francisco: City Lights, 2001. Print.
known as reductio ad absurd this platonic object but not exist yes, if you are existence then count main characters certain certain certain sensory (see threatfulness) textual this perfectly specific here in fact the black takes a bicycle the computer the computer edits the population this is a text: egg fried in freedom will existence of free will your obligation compiles failure ergo sum sound deep below art being at does nonexistence and existence in certain sensations in the face of braces it.
How do we adjust
For the right leg
The men limping toward the blaring shore
Who do not
They skim thin-edged along
And do not.
Command: Don’t tweak or complicate
What do we carry to our thanksgiving?
What do we parcel away?
Carve lines straight and strong
Hum the flesh thin, earnest and true.
& do not waste language like another plastic bag
Tied, knotted, tossed into the trash
Another plastic bag.
I’m more interested in the uniform
The too-dark denim, hand-hem; the
Wide, egg-white sun-styled shoes, shuffle
Ashore the rug; her basket
Full of New Romance.
for Wayne Koestenbaum