L C Vieira

(Lisbon, Portugal)

Feeling Pasta Like Salvador


Distanze percosa
We take the distances with us
and all their stories

New York flies towards us from five thousand miles

Vento a stavore
wind pulls us through centuries of art -
nipples and nudes lighting our way
with borrowed bits of time

The Italians have purged our mediocre palates,
stroking our tongues, juice-swollen and fatter
than the lusts of Spanish Dali -

A loaf of bread between our thighs
decorating our hungry landscapes with details
beyond 'The Great Masturbator.'

We swim into the foreground,
our trusting fingers playing along the lines,
studying each* other's spaces, circling infinite curves…
an exploration beyond our well-known regions -

It is the hidden things we want as well,
the enchantment of our untamed composition.

We suck spilled colors from our adventures,
and blend these palettes of red and golds
to drip beneath the airplane blankets
and down our legs.

Tempo marcarte all ‘arriva -
we'll arrive from this journey and start again,
a different angle or some new knowledge
exploding us onto another canvas,
erotic dreams blended with our great reality.

Distanze percosa
We take the distances with us
and all their stories.

(2004)

Submitted: Thursday, March 15, 2012
Edited: Friday, July 26, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

We visited Portofino, Italy (near Genoa) , then drove 600 miles to see Figueres, Spain - Salvador Dali's hometown where much of his imagery originated, including the mentioned painting. The crowds, the buses in that little town, surprised us as we appreciated also the colors on the town's painted doors, religious symbols, and his diverse technical and artistic abilities and vision that gave the world his innovative, influential art style. I later dressed up as Salvador Dali with a loaf of bread on my head and a big black moustache.

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