poetry without a place 3

Epicallia villica I photographed. In Portugal, they take flight at the start of April, and in rural coastal zones, they can be as abundant as flies in Summer.

The second poem contains a translation from the latin Nulla in mundo pax sincera, from Vivaldi, though it isn’t entirely verifiable if he wrote it or just used it in his motet. Either way, that’s where I got it from.
Nothing else to report.
Happy traditional celebrations and thank you for reading,
João-Maria.

Published by João-Maria

A tick clinging to the bristles of a purple boar.

19 thoughts on “poetry without a place 3

  1. João-Maria, I sometimes have the sensation, when reading you, that I am privy to a séance or attendant to some occult ceremony whereupon messages are channelled through you from – who knows? – a beyond, certainly, and relayed to us stood at the edges of the dim parlour. I like it very much. Thank you.

    Liked by 5 people

    1. Nick, this is so immensely sweet of you. You know I adore your work as well, that goes without saying, but I’m especially touched. I grew up reading to Lispector and Hesse and Calvino, and all these authors of the strange gave me much the same sentiment you describe. It’s a home, to me. To disfigure things to the point of near-extreme and let yourself be washed by the lack of will to control them; understand them; dominate them. That’s the peace of my literature, or that I seek.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. João-Maria… this is so, so breathtakingly beautiful and true, in so many layers and ways. Hugs and happy days to you, and thanks for giving this part of your heart, for us to read 🙏💗

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh, thank you Lia, that is unbelievably sweet. It’s difficult to lose, and I’m drawn to the irrecuperable. Better yet, I recuperate as I can. I hope you are doing well. Many firm hugs back, and double the happy days!

      Liked by 1 person

    1. You are not bumped, Dave! (Nor shall you ever be).
      I’m taking a break from writing in English and dedicating more time to my Portuguese and German. But soon, very soon, I shall return, hopefully with much greater energy.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. sometimes, the sky opens up, or the time is ripe, and one reads a pen which is in synchrony with one’s own hum, one’s own vibration. here, the vibration of loss, repeated like a charm, like an incantation from Sylvia Plath’s “Elm”.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. This is a tremendous and unmatchable compliment and I could not, try as might, synchronous or not with whichever ressembles a pen in such digital space, replicate the level of warmth with which I received these words. I am sorry for the gigantic delay in response, and I’m hopeful that the response reaches you regardless of the distance, temporal or spatial. Thank you, truly.

      Liked by 1 person

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