XVI fragments

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By AIRTON PASCHOA*

eight short pieces

Calculation

Pretend the world has a way
that life has medicine make believe.
That life is a joke that we go hand in hand and
we wander non-stop. Pretend that
we are unequal in peace
or are we the same without stopping
pretend.

Toy
that costs little. And the little it costs
pretend you have
General emergency room
that the calculation
it hurts more and more
each time fewer.
Pretend.

 

Parada

Holidays are so still that we feel the itch to stop.

From this block we can only see tombs, tombs and more tombs, some sumptuous, almost mausoleums, others not so much, just graves and eyes, most simple, bordering on sheep.

From time to time he points to a worm and then withdraws in disappointment. Nothing, not even a heartbeat. Let's go back to the repast.

 

to our parents

In memoriam

Forgive the washed-out face, the lack of space, etc., days are like that. There was a party, so brief, that many think it was just a dream. We wash, rub our eyes well, days are like that. Perhaps more difficult is telling them about the transformation. We harvested it and tasted it, and how shall I put it? it is and is not the taste, it is and is not the fruit… It is not dialectic. I don't quite understand either, sorry. Days are like that. They call it genetic transformation. Transgenic is the fruit, transgenic the taste — forgive me, the neologism imposes itself. And it imposed itself so democratically that we can no longer talk to our children. Days are like that.

 

mountain & beach

Play poetry! when millions and millions follow football stars, soap opera stars, when they are not stars and stars ascended and lit by their own networks, when it barely touches, earthly however, thousands and thousands that spread and pile up.

 

brazuca requiem

Mestre Pazzo, a member of a traditional military band, did not finish in time. The chorus, what remains, remains awestruck. Deaf, the conductor prefers the bazooka baton. The auditorium, anesthetized, takes the clatter of blades for a celesta.

 

[degauling]

I make it known, to anyone who may be interested, to stop being a turrão! to take the fatal clod seriously; seriously, he takes you — to the grave, to the pinel, even to the ramp! Enjoy the great cast trying to disguise the farce. Look at people sneezing, nosocomics, right? Yes, yes, serious are the consequences of becoming henchmen, but for that very reason should we scoff less? Do not encase. Will you lose your head and your chair?

 

[crying]

I make it known, to anyone interested bossa, that the Brazilian soul is averse to the valley of tears; here the chorinho reigns. The thing is to take the flute. Think, what does it pay off? The machete cracks and the guitar struts. Everything is made of straw and barely stands up. What catches fire is the crying, but the flute blows. Who cares about the wind — sharp as a guillotine! of the legion of arches? Whimpers, that one, “Toco-toco no bafu”, our soul, our palm, please.

 

[pragmatism]

I make it known, to as many as I can imagine, wow! what a country this was! Who doesn't need love, affection, protection? Is there resistance to the paternal, maternal, eternal protectorate? For some unified reason, perhaps metaphysical, our interest is not concentrated in this territory. Why then disdain the intervention proposal — it is necessary to undo the misunderstanding! insight into interaction, friendly, loving, part of our everyday America? Don't forget the inspiring name of such a Democrat mam, Pam Keith.

I'm not saying this or please for the girls, who would love kids with clear eyes and golden rings, like in glamorous ribbons, not even for free English from nursery school, which is no small feat, nor for my long-suffering corporation, among whose generations I already see myself thriving (but honorary president, well!) in well-deserved memory, taking them as I please to the Panteão das Letras, whose entry naturally ensures the soldadã language of the world. My intimate reason may sound pragmatic; meanwhile, between us, dreams and sighs… who wouldn't trade it for pankeikh?

*Airton Paschoa is a writer, author, among other books, of see ships (e-galaxia, 2021, 2nd edition, magazine).

 

 

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