jueves, 18 de diciembre de 2014

Back pages – Brown Notebook (d) Early June 1967

There are some things not spoken about,

and others
that are spoken about without being things ...

That caravan parked behind the house
- when I arrive the sun shines just above it

and I see it shine

and I stay for a while watching it
(narrowed eyes)

and I know there's someone (on the) inside,
who I still don't know


the caravan
as a metaphor for myself
in these spring days
as my Olivetti takes up
some old rhythms

- yes, I'm thinking in terms of rhythm, too, these days-

and at the same time
it accompanies with a corn-spike-green torrent
from which joy and reaction keep rising,
the complicity of a band
that is myself before and myself now

If we talk about it,
or better yet play it together,
what I still don't know
could join us any afternoon now,
in the basement

Who is it that inhabits that "metaphorical caravan"?  
                               ( psychedelic pillows:
                                     why should surrealism be
                                            the patrimony of a single side? )

Talk to me, Nar!
- the guys told me you have this name,
sort of Shakespearean jester style ...

Now I wonder how might your voice sound like .

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