Tags
art, drowning, little death, pain, poem, Portuguese translation
Porque eu estou morto. Porque
eu afogou e eu morri de dor. Porque
minha língua é tocando no céu da tua boca.
Porque minha dor é o lua lindo. Porque
minha sepultura a é piscina das oceanos longínquas.
Porque ama seu professor por você ensinar
as coisas mais belas das quais não é ensinado na sala de aula.
Digo-lhe isto. Na fragilidade do amor é isto.
Dor. Pequenas mortes. Afogamento.
Venha aqui. Você está curioso,
e eu estou nua e sempre molhado.
.
Because I’m dead. Because
I drowned and died in pain. Because
my tongue is touching the roof of your mouth.
Because my pain is the gorgeous moon. Because
my grave is a pool of distant oceans.
Because you love your teacher for teaching
the most beautiful things that never get taught in the classroom.
I tell you this. The fragility of love is this.
Pain. Little deaths. Drowning.
Come here. You are curious,
and I’m naked and always wet.
memories of my ghost sista 
No Armenian this time… I am staying with a friend who is heavily into jazz, and he’s got some Armenian CDs. Armenian jazz, daddy…get on the dark shades and give a couple of finger snaps.
later….
heh! any day i get a snap is a good time, regardless! please tell me you aren’t actually in ohio right now, since i could jump in the car and come visit if need be … michigan is nice in that “in-between” locale … give me two weeks and i’ll be in northern california … which isn’t near seattle, i know, but probably closer than san josé. hope you get home safe. miss ya!