As if an invasion of pods farmed in a sleepy town is not bad enough, and then turned into emotionless doppelgangers, we have a world seemingly bent on seeing us become such things. We are strange things; we are poor things; we are curious things; we are aliens and children of the universe. We are magical.
We are...
Queer Things
One nostril means latin,
The other means greek.
My legs will be
little steel rods,
which will continue
trotting after
I am dead.
My arms are
two useless limbs
when i stand on my head,
(Which I never do).
My mouth, too often open,
will be my despair -
clogged and sputtering
and drivelling -
when i’ll be very old (which
will never be)
I hate my head
My rotting head
which will never fall of itself
like any decent pear,
It has the intention
of flying up to the sky,
but it will always trail in the dust:
eating grime and dirt,
screaming erotic songs,
begging all the world
to enter into it.
Emanuel Carnevali (1861-1930)
Published with awe and respect. All copyrights are owned by the authors.
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