Aurelio Major

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

based on watching host cells collaborate /
in bacterial infection, and at night /
chewed the soles of their mukluks /
till they were soft again.

"Among the Musk Ox People" Mary Ruefle

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

They were aesthetes, which means /
I was forced to eat a hard peach, /
commissioned to paint a twelve-foot abstraction /

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

Reminder:
[...] It is your trump /
It is your hateful little trump /
You pointed fiend, /
Which shakes my sudden blood to hatred of you: /
It is your small, high, hateful bugle in my ear. [...] "Mosquito" D. H. Lawrence

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

@BertaAresY Enhorabuena

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

The immediate and intolerable need /
Of the very body instinctively crying /
A challenge to a final solution.

Wallace Stevens, "Examination of the Hero in a Time of War"

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

In casque and scaffold orator, fortified /
By gestures of a mortal perfection. /
What misanthrope, impugning heroica, /
Maligning his costumes and disputing /
His roles, would leave to the clouds the righting, /

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

It is the common man against evil, /
Now. War as a punishment. The hero /
As hangman, a little sick of blood, of /
The deep sigh with which the hanging ends, close /
To his gorge, hangman, once helmet-maker /
And headsman and trumpeteer and feather /

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

El ruano, sangrante, se llama Vida:
“No puedo reposar del viaje:
beberé la Vida hasta los posos.”

El otro caballo se llama Tennyson, que compuso los versos citados.

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

Dos galopan lejos.

El azabache se llama Quaker:
“That were a public merit, far, /
Whatever the Quaker hold, from sin”

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

Uno se llama Trojan:
“Slide from that quite heaven of hers, and tempt /
The Trojan, while his neat-heards were abroad”

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

Además de las aureolas (del volcán, del sol), más signos de las “postrimerías”:

Cuatro caballos se desbocan por las calles de Londres al estrépito de unos escombros.
Han derribado a sus cuatro jinetes.

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

Nosotros, sin embargo, en ésas estamos, y trazamos surcos /
en el polvo sutil y removemos inútilmente la arena de la playa con el arado.
Juv. Sat. VII (t. Bartolomé Segura Ramos)

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

"Me hablo a mí mismo. Hablo solo. /
No hablo con nadie. Soy nadie. /
Pero hablo. No sé para qué. O con quién. /
Soy un quién. Eso está mejor. Soy alguien."

Habla Loomis, #DavidHuerta 1948-2022

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

"Mi casa está suspendida de un ramo de gardenias. Es una flor /
y es un forma de gritar y es una modulación /
de tu voz, amor, en donde puedo descansar y poner la cabeza /
y dejar la mirada como si fuera un pañuelo quieto."

#DavidHuerta, 1949-2022

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

Lo que pierde a los talentos contemporáneos
es la indiferencia, en la que todos, con la
excepción de unos pocos, vivimos.
"Longino" (siglo uno) (t. J García López)

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

Álvaro Uribe: El que sí:
The circle's association: There's a center
To almost everything but never
Any certainty. Nothing is
More malleable than a moment. We were
Only yesterday breathing in a sea.
MJB

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

Swearing and supperless the Hero sate,
Blasphem'd his Gods, the Dice, and damn'd his Fate.
Then gnaw'd his pen, then dash'd it on the ground,
Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound!

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

Que me matas, con crueldad,
de homicida amor impío.
¿Y además pides que acalle
esta muerte sin gritarla?
Ay, el áspero martirio
que antecede a toda muerte
no se puede silenciar.
Y así voy por ahí gritando:
"¡Ay de mí, que muero, amando!"
C. G. (tr. A.M.)

[Aurelio Major @AurelioMajor]

The borderline dividing what is a work of poetry from what is not is less stable than the frontiers of the Chinese empire's territories.
Jakobson