Monday, March 03, 2014
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And they add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
(High Windows, Faber and Faber, 30)
Monday, February 17, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Thursday, February 13, 2014
"Poetry is part of everything. You can’t have a really good work if it’s not touched by poetry. Poetry manifests itself in millions of ways: as rhythm, metaphor, mood. Sometimes it’s a type of emotional outpouring or necessity that’s not expressed through characters but through feelings. To me, poetry is the tragic sense of man. It’s a way of seeing things in the most complete way, the most absolute, and, to a certain extent, the most perfect. Where there’s no poetry, there’s no beauty, and without beauty no kind of artistic work can exist."
Saturday, February 08, 2014
Friday, February 07, 2014
“Nunca fue gratis este derecho que ahora usamos. Personas de la altura de Alice Paul se sacrificaron duramente para conseguir el voto de la mujer y todo para que pudiéramos votar por el Chuchin.”
(Banquete total, Sinónimo, 172)