March 11-13: I will be delivering the Mandel Lectures at Brandeis University. The three oceanic-themed lectures will focus on political economy, poetry, and mysticism (yeah, I'm hitting all my fancies here). The lectures will eventually be published as a book. More info here:
https://www.brandeis.edu/mandel-center-humanities/mandel-lectures.html
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La Impresora put out a free version of an anthology of trans boricua poetry for Transgender Day of Visbility. Click here to check it out .
There’s poems in both Spanish and English.
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From Rotten Pomerack by Merle Collins.
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A poem by Derek Walcott
Sixty Years After
In my wheelchair in the Virgin lounge at Vieuxfort,
I saw, sitting in her own wheelchair, her beauty
hunched like a crumpled flower, the one whom I thought
as the fire of my young life would do her duty
to be golden and beautiful and young forever
even as I aged. She was treble-chinned, old, her devastating
smile was netted in wrinkles, but I felt the fever
briefly returning as we sat there, crippled, hating
time and the lie of general pleasantries.
Small waves still break against the small stone pier
where a boatman left me in the orange peace
of dusk, a half-century ago, maybe happier
being erect, she like a deer in her shyness, I stalking
an impossible consummation; those who knew us
knew we would never be together, at least, not walking.
Now the silent knives from the intercom went through us.
Derek Walcott
(1930 – 2017)
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words by Johnny Depp ♡
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we converge like
the teals and turquoises
of the caribbean sea;
we rise and fall like
the tsunamis
inside me.
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"I have this uncanny urge to gaze deeply into your eyes and lose myself in the ocean of love that I find there.. a league or twenty thousand deep with a creature of lust staring back at me."
I could go swimming in those Caribbean eyes - eUë
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Hector Barbossa- Still thinking of runnin', Jack?
Think you can outrun the world?
You know, the problem with being the last of anythin'...
By and by there be none left at all.
Jack Sparrow- Sometimes things come back, mate... We're livin' proof, you and me.
H.B.- Aye, but that's a gamble of long odds, ain't it?
There's never a guarantee of coming back.
But passing on, that's dead certain.
J.S.- Summoning the Brethren Court, then, is it?
H.B.- It's our only hope, lad.
J.S.- That's a sad commentary in and of itself.
H.B.- The world used to be a bigger place...
J.S.- The world's still the same. There's just... less in it.
Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa, POTC: At World's End.
(video) (transcript) (subbed image)
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I sing again, leaving death behind,
to take part in the horrible tenderness of love,
that now arrives when life is late,
to be innocent of future wars.
I come again to the eternal night of expectation,
to the sacred prejudice of a unique man,
when I’ve made peace treaties
in the remote sunsets of solitude.
I return to the world as I depart,
having birthed another phantom,
a dweller of nebulous coasts,
a brief enemy of metaphors.
And you are here.
Promising love beyond this century.
Delivering the thirsty rains of summer.
The most accurate painter of human walls.
Animal of another space unbound.
So many clocks devoid of hours are enticing us,
such a great urge, unquenched, is pressing us,
so much hope is only an initiation
into the slow funeral of our perfect joy.
Our time is scant, and so our things:
a stained carpet, two glasses without memories,
a black telephone, a hiding place,
a key to light that locks in sadness
and a recent past that now rejects us.
Walking hand in hand and lost
we’re perplexed again that so much love exists.
Manuel Ramos Otero (1948-1990), translated from Spanish by Cristina Pérez Díaz
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not me, pining after seven (7) other books in a series as the only one (1) book of said series that i own languishes (unread) on my floor
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There was something deep and dark inside her that spoke only in whispers, so quiet that everyone else chose to ignore it. Just the wind, they would say. Nothing to worry about. But it never scared me. There, inside her, lay the truth, a truth she barely understood. But the closer you leaned in, the louder those whispers became, until it was all but a war cry.
You came back. I always knew you were a good man.
I’m not sorry.
Would you sail to the ends of the earth and beyond to fetch back witty Jack and him precious pearl? Yes.
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Johnny Depp ♡
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