dawn now comes through way past the time i should be up. we’ve hit that bump where if i can see the sun rise, i might as well just hop in the shower (arctic blast*) and get the machine rolling from there.
which doesnt mean i wont do that, it just means that i have negotiate that within myself.
so yeah, being that this benefit is for New Orleans (i cant fking stand it when it is called NOLA but dats a whole nother rant) or if ya will, Nawlins, then i might as well talk about the things that make a city vibrant alive and dark and nasty and albatross and robust. ¿tu sabes?
ps- props to sarah for the dope pic.
Dawn by Federico Garcia Lorca
Dawn in New York has
four columns of mire
and a hurricane of black pigeons
splashing in the putrid waters.
Dawn in New York groans
on enormous fire escapes
searching between the angles
for spikenards of drafted anguish.
Dawn arrives and no one receives it in his mouth
because morning and hope are impossible there:
sometimes the furious swarming coins
penetrate like drills and devour abandoned children.
Those who go out early know in their bones
there will be no paradise or loves that bloom and die:
they know they will be mired in numbers and laws,
in mindless games, in fruitless labors.
The light is buried under chains and noises
in the impudent challenge of rootless science.
And crowds stagger sleeplessly through the boroughs
as if they had just escaped a shipwreck of blood.
pps- uhhm, look at this. some lorca in german. doin it in deutsch, indeed*