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on apartness:

(poems by Maria Fernandes after the photos and titles by Fedra Espiga Pinto)

11 months healing

until deafness is curdled

until curds
are broken in
all the measure
of a blurred shadow

until the gush
of boiling lava
– cervical witness –
of the existence
of

strange body

at the centre inverse
of a revealed essence:

– flash and a half at noon
by a chord-sound in sky

(above our heads

a misty mist remembering)

an announced presence
of thousand and five hundred
or so

shades and

the more I walk around

I cannot see
that souls’ settler
bluebird

the conjugate ancestor

to the curvilinear composition
the interrupted breathing
always and at each
break of lucidity

there will always be time
to sin(k) the rhythm of

a rock on top of it

and knowing then done
the inauguration process
of gaze calmness

knowing the lightness
of a heavy-feather
which is the absence
of a blurred colour
of laughter
of strength
of genius – lies!

to refuse – liquidation

the apartness

and they were never seen together again

not to applied
sociologies
nor to proto-autistic
futurisms

here behold
the scaffold
construction where
under woolly-steps
souls perish
from Us.

Fedra Espiga Pinto – Life plays with us. Today it shows a different perspective from that presented yesterday. And that’s good. These perspectives bring us different points of view, different ideas, different conversations. When there’ll only be a single perspective, a single reality, we fall into emptiness and it ceases to be possible to understand. It is thus that I see the days, people and things. It is thus that I register images, waiting to stimulate and summon other images. / Maria Fernandes – The construction of the poetic image as a product of a daily, first person observation, as well as the result of observing the daily observation of third people: feeding poetic, panoramic landscapes which enmeshed in the matrix of being no longer produce a new perspective through that which was already envisaged. The final poetry as giving birth to a gaze that is not mine, but in which I see myself reflected and in which I observe the creation.

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