1896



They're holding umbrellas up
to keep the soft ash away

While they watch
their city burn down

Block by block
by block by block

3 comments:

  1. This is jut a divertissement, not quite in tune with the banality of disaster in your photo and text, and perhaps more obvious, but it may still be apt. (Note: it was rather hastily translated from the original, in Portuguese):

    Around 1900

    There are days for me
    around 1900 when I’d like
    a trade that demanded contraptions
    on wheels and gears and pedals or
    say a little stall or kiosk
    with a painted sign in the middle of a square
    even if light was already rather washed out
    and people peering behind the doors
    of shops nearby frightened me terribly. Around 1900
    I’d like litters of vertical lintel and flowers
    in black and white to grow on my back
    but with nuances and tiny ladders
    to climb up to my drums if I managed
    to sell a couple of baskets or to jump
    over myself or whomever wished
    and find the best pose and the ideal bonnet
    to sell umbrellas on a fine day
    as the century turned and have that look
    of the well-groomed drifter, and a moustache
    that means business, and lots of buttons
    of my jacket and be able to trade
    normal flowers for weird ones around
    1900 or so and in Paris. And that Atget
    would walk by and ask to take my picture.
    But I’d want to have a less gloomy air about me and
    have a cobbler for a friend who would
    do me a service now and then and
    a more substantial daily prog and
    piped water and a bit more time
    to make advances on the mannequins
    in shopwindows and a not so hunched gait

    and be alive.


    Cheers

    Miguel

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  2. Thanks, Miguel. Is this your writing? The hunchback at the end is calling to mind Bertrand's Gaspard de la Nuit, which I haven't thought about in way too long...

    (by the way, if it was you who put Emanuele in contact with me, many many thanks)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Hi Evan. I did write to Emanuele and told him he should read your blog, and so I guess indirectly I put him in contact with you. I had your recent epistolary posts about Rome in mind, but I was sure he'd enjoy your writing as a whole, as do I.
    The poem above is indeed mine - just something I wrote after staring at Atget photos for a couple of hours.
    I've come across references to Gaspard de la nuit in my readings of and on surrealism and Baudelaire, but have never actually read it.

    I'm looking forward to your book on combined and uneven apocalypse, which I guess won't be long in coming.

    Best

    Miguel

    P.S. I'm a Birkbeck grad student, by the way, under the supervision of Esther Leslie, although I've moved back to Lisbon where I'm trying to write the PhD thesis in exile, as it were, after a rather long interruption .

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