quinta-feira, 17 de novembro de 2011

pequeno-almoço em Beirut



German Phenomenology Makes Me

Want to Strip and Run through North London


Page seven - I’ve had enough of Being and Time

and of clothing. Many streakers seek quieter locations

and Marlborough Road’s unreasonably quiet tonight.

If it were winter I’d be intellectual, but it’s Tuesday

and I’d rather be outside, naked, than learned -

rather lap the tarmac escarpment of Archway Roundabout

wearing only a rucksack. It might come in useful.

I can’t take any more of Heidegger’s Dasein-diction,

I say as I jettison my slippers.

When I speak of my ambition

it is not to be a Doctor of Letters

or to marry Friedrich Nietzsche, it turns out,

or to think better.

It is to give up this fashion for dressing.

It is to drop my robe on the communal stairs

and open the front door onto the commuter hour,

my neighbour, his Labrador, and say nothing

of what I know or do not know, except what my body announces.


Heather Phillipson

poema roubado ao Faber new poets 3, Faber & Faber



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