p.d.s. 42 – Month of May. „The day releases whiteness on the city”

Sa ne prefacem putin ca e inca iunie mai si mai ales ca e sambata. Calendarul lui Seidel a ajuns la mai, luna in care in unele tari vine primavara.

May

A man picks up the telephone to hear his messages,
Returns the handset to the cradle, looking stunned.
The pigeon on the ledge outside the window
Bobs back and forth in front of New York City, moaning.

A man takes roses to a doctor, to her office,
And gets himself buzzed in, and at the smiling front desk
Won’t give his name to the receptionist, just leaves red roses.
The doctor calls the man the next day, leaves a message.

There isn’t anything more emptiness than this,
But it’s an emptiness that’s almost estival.
The show-off-ness of living full of May
Puts everything that’s empty on display.

The pigeon on the ledge outside the window
Moans, bobbing up and down, releasing whiteness.
The day releases whiteness on the city.
And May increases.

Seersucker flames of baby blue and white
Beneath a blue-eyed Caucasian sky with clouds
Fill up the emptiness of East Side life
Above a center strip that lets red flowers grow.

They call them cut flowers when they cut them.
They sell the living bodies at the shop.
A man is bringing flowers to the doctor,
But not for her to sew them up.

And May is getting happy, and the temperature is eighty.
And the heart is full of palm trees, even when it’s empty.
The center strip migraine down Park Avenue sees red.
Girl with a Red Hat in the Vermeer show is what it sees.

Vermeer went a day and a half from being healthy to being dead.
A city made of pigeons is moaning in a morgue that’s a garden.
The red hat reddens the Metropolitan.
It’s its harem.

***

[Un mic bonus – The “weep sugar” line alone is enough to stop you dead and make you lie down on the sidewalk like that guy from the 1995 video for Radiohead’s “Just.”]

De fapt eu ma bucur ca e iunie fiindca maine ma duc la Librarie sa-l vad pe Wim Wenders vorbind despre muzica si despre de ce muzica l-a facut sa se simta acasa in piesele Pinei Bausch, pe 13 sa-l vad pe Mick Harvey cantand (aproape) singur-singurel, pe 20 sa-i vad pe Danielle de Picciotto si Alex Hacke citind si cantand despre Berlin, pe 24 sa-i vad pe TV on the Radio si in rest ramane de vazut. Oricum e bine. Acum fiindu-mi somn si avand de terminat o insemnare despre scriitorul meu preferat (cine-o fi oare?😛 ), va trimit la un concert. De fapt imi folosesc masinaria de calatorit in timp (noroc c-am inventat-o, altfel fiti atenti ce pierdeam) si mergem direct la Amsterdam in 1992 ca sa vedem:

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