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.

10 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 2 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 1 person

    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

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