The garden flew round with the angel,

The angel flew round with the clouds,
And the clouds flew round and the clouds flew round
And the clouds flew round with the clouds.

Is there any secret in skulls,
The cattle skulls in the woods?
Do the drummers in black hoods
Rumble anything out of their drums?

Mrs. Anderson's Swedish baby
Might well have been German or Spanish,
But that things go round and again go round
Has rather a classical sound.

Wallace Stevens, "The Pleasures of Merely Circulating"

Photo: Maia Flore

Of instruction which does not become life

Modern man... has become a strolling spectator and has arrived at a condition in which even great wars and revolutions are able to influence him for hardly more than a moment... Thus the individual grows fainthearted and unsure and dares no longer believe in himself: he sinks into his own subjective depths, which here means into the accumulated lumber of what he has learned but which has no outward effect, of instruction which does not become life. 

Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations (1876: só o emprego do masculino está desactualizado, porque o argumento...)

A noite faz-se no regresso às palavras simples, de cadência húmida e escura. Recolhe-se na hipotenusa das constelações, buscando o conforto na cratera do sono, onde habitam o sangue e a terra primeva.

Um resto de cinza amniótica.