V fragments


Strange, very strange year. A lot of covid, a lot of grave, a lot of video. Much Ovid? Who sees metamorphosis in sight other than that of the virus? With the naked eye, we continue to see only men on the asphalt, fed up and lacking in air — men of unparalleled speed and ferocity. Urban beings, in short; not those ancients, who were thought, polished by the polis, opposed to the rustic, the rude peasants; of these so-called modern ones, who blurred the border with the countryside and, with them disappearing, (in pandemics, for example) the more they humanize the city… banal oxymoron and no less brutal. Virtues of veritas? The year spies on us, with its hollow and evasive eyes, enigmatic as a mask.

Roll cake
1/3 of absentees
1/3 of guava beans
1/3 of agonized

Put everything in a pan, beat without mercy (the pan too, to taste) the heteroclitant mixture, until it turns 1/2 purple, 1/2 olive-olava, and take it to the oven, heated for decades, the dough the faith and fermented gall .
In another one or two decades, the beautiful roll cake will be ready.
Waives coverage. If you can't bear to see it, just grease the regular grid.

To Iná, who asked
The one with the hair isn't enough anymore, well, I'm going to tear it apart with a bag drop! Put it in the wardrobe. And if the ladies fall when the door opens, throw the coffin down, damn it! You live well without clothes and without a purse. Without guard, then, is Eden, Seu Edgar, the added value ends. The era of hangers is over, in which people do nothing but endure, above all, and the epic of the inappropriate ones, those who don't fit in, has started. And those who don't fit in go out to the square and associate freely with others who explode in themselves. Louis Vuitton (God keep him in his purse) would call it communism — and aren't we finally awake? Now that was a trip...

pressure cooker
boiling cauldron

in the frying of the eggs
the pan

the hinterland does not turn into the sea but
to the left

court MMXVI
in art as well as in politics
has or does not have perception
who doesn't check a coup de vista
will never see revelation

(or sum)
Twenty years to open your eyes.
Twenty more to look around.
Another twenty to cover the hole.

toxic comic
I hope

*Airton Paschoa is a writer, author, among other books, of the life of penguins (Nankin, 2014)

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