Ciao, Glen,
grazie delle belle parole dolci...
Come stai? Sei contento, stai lavorando?
Un saluto affettuoso,
erminia
--- Glen Phillips <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Cara
> Ho letto le tue parole mi fa piengere...
> Ciao
> G'issimo
>
> "Erminia H. Passannanti" wrote:
>
> > “Mystics” (Part 1.) (by Erminia Passannanti)
> >
> > Always caught in the brutal agony of my two uncles
> as outside or beyond the
> > paternal house and its frail borders always
> looking for more than a mirror
> > to the extent to find in front of myself someone
> else this maybe seeming an
> > odd search which temporarily proves something
> against my will or against a
> > global tendency towards the innate as in the game
> often played with your
> > knees down on the warm stone of the baker shop’s
> threshold in a sunny day
> > and in a small village up the white mountains
> while your mother is waiting
> > for the fragrant bread to be wrapped in a fine
> paper as fawn as your skin
> > in summer and a voice is telling you “you do not
> want to do this, you do
> > not want to do this” not always insurgent as the
> gush of water spilling
> > from a little iron fountain not always delighted
> in the multiple moralities
> > I use to prove that I am right and where of course
> notable and essential
> > exceptions are made like the bee penetrating a
> cabbage.
> >
> > I did not want to do it matter of fact it happened
> to my life as a life
> > given
> > for no particular reason and under no obligation
> as I told my father
> > adding thank you papa’ for being born and
> certainly I meant it in
> > differential superimpositions of reverences so to
> sweat and mimic his body
> > odours his way of moving his hands resulting in me
> being quite a man and
> > yet suffering female desires inflicted upon my
> history as a sword however I
> > am using these words to describe how from being
> veiled truth discloses
> > itself as gently as a woman would do standing in
> front of her beloved in an
> > dimmed room quite ashamed of her meagre chances
> and of the very little
> > worth one has for the other person after all in
> those components of ecstasy
> > when a double-voiced educated young scholar comes
> by you and seats down on
> > that old stone threshold talking to both of us of
> his transient status and
> > you nod and your mother nods and whispers with
> lips tight you do not do
> > this, you ? do ? not ? do ? this.
> >
> > When I recall these fractions of my past I feel
> all pervaded by pure joy
> > and it would not seem productive to me to stay
> still so I dance and sing
> > and celebrate the vision
> > Which is a gift of the memory making us experience
> our life two three ten
> > times just by dashing into the creamy vertigo of
> remembrances a discipline
> > which was taught to me in one of those late
> September afternoons by Tommaso
> > d’Aquino and San Francesco d’Assisi, each of them
> being brother to one of
> > my parents and an ultimate measure of the
> unfathomable emotion that makes
> > one feel lost every time one smells traces of
> coffee in the breath of a
> > male a thing that in terms of religious tradition
> can gives the exact
> > measure of the technicality needed for the
> self-reflexive identification
> > of one’s soul with those of the good people.
> >
> > Always caught in the constellation of the
> admittedly rare stars of my
> > ancestors I just wished to consider in a concise
> fashion which were the
> > circumstance that made me mystic.
> >
> > yes, fair enough, but I had a friend who had
> cancer, you see. at the age of
> > thirty she had already had her left breast
> removed.
> >
> > our instinct weighs us down and it is like walking
> about carrying in your
> > arms a lead ball. there is no assumption you can
> make on the moral
> > integrity of these two relatives of yours. they
> are both guests of country
> > nursing homes, now. Imagine them as exhausted
> candles. Remember: they used
> > to wipe their mouths up before they spoke to you.
> > each time they spoke to you.
__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Get personalized email addresses from Yahoo! Mail
http://personal.mail.yahoo.com/
|