Friday, September 27, 2013

Monody At The Fourth Remove

It takes the span of dumb persistent stone to see mountain
waves sailed by pine masts.

It takes a firebrand of lava after long and lonely waiting
to awaken to mute burning moon on listening snow.

Wit is short-lived and there is no living city.

This is to be retold and remembered.

When all is said and done there is one river, Ocean,
vast and encircling, unabridged, and rain that never forgets.

(E. A. Costa 27 September 2013)

Thursday, September 26, 2013

The Bullfrog (Big Bureau Again)

Socrates: But if he did not acquire the knowledge in this life, then he must have had and learned it at some other time? 
Meno: Clearly he must. 
Socrates: Which must have been the time when he was not a man? 
                                                                                (Plato tr. Jowett)

Through the night on the creek bank
bellows fan desire,

round and hollow followed by a snapping whip:


I listened.

I am still listening.

What do the frogs remember of me?

[E. A. Costa 26 September 2013]

Wednesday, September 25, 2013


                       En la luna negra 
                      de los bandoleros, 
                      cantan las espuelas....
                      (Federico García Lorca)

The guitar awaiting midnight

the missing tea set

flesh fed to fat fish
in South Atlantic nets

the looking glass

the rabbit hole

Alma  Venus rising from the sea.

What you breathe every yesterday
is the other side of matter.

At some point transpires the completely uncivilized sentence
streaming up like bubbles from the sunken Islets of the Blessed.

(E. A. Costa 25 September 2013)

Wednesday, September 18, 2013


                                    Il n’y a pas lieu de craindre ou d’espérer,
                                    mais de chercher de nouvelles armes.

                                                                                               Gilles Deleuze

A broken mirror is no longer a mirror
nor any mirror nor many.

A broken glass is no longer a glass
nor any glass nor many.

There is no one infinity.

There is no endless rose.

There is no shattered song.

[E. A. Costa 18 September 2013]

Thursday, September 5, 2013

6 feuilles avant la fin....

En la selva silenciosa
susurra brisa suave.

Hojas de memoria
mariposean por la sombra
como voces tenebrosas.

Soñando con señas
en la luz lobuna
ramos de hueso negro
agarran la luna nueva....

[E. A. Costa 5 septiembre 2013]