Caio Meira

Rookie (06/24/1966 / Goiânia - Brazil)

Duckbill - Poem by Caio Meira

there was that time when I imitated a monkey to give the boys their first laughter

there’s a fight for love, there’s a lot of plumb in the water, there’s many notations made at dawn in my green notebook

there’s a guy on a top of soap box giving a speech in a square of london, another one has just said in TV that everything is chemical

everything is a kiss, everything is a good pair of thighs, or intrigues, or forgotten telephone numbers, or a spacecraft orbiting another worlds

or everything could be geography, economy, orthodoxy, taxonomy of propellers organs, or a septic appendix, or cervical configurations, or a map of the life in a clinic of a Japanese guy in the town

there’s aberrations sewn in a way to look like a work of art, but they all seems too much unlikely

until now, the destiny have been sweet with me, and close to my jaw and my spurs, close to my ears from now on weakened by horns and alarms, close to my molars, my body can fit a stabbing pain or even a deoppilation of a laughter

it can also fit everything entering the window of the eyes to mix up with all transcriptions, old magazines read in waiting rooms, different versions of a same beethoven’s sonata

and even fit the explosions that nobody has heard (the tree that has fallen alone in the middle of the forest) and these endless lists of everything that hurts life

one day, maybe, we all reach the conclusion that life hurts life, and we will only be saved by those remote and mysterious things

those doubtful dogs cruising the city to come back home or the coordination of sparrows flights at 6: 00 pm

and all the other everybody’s peculiar gestures, hybrids of everything and anything, decided by subcutaneous wishes or details of the world macroeconomic games (surdeterminated for a brief panic in singapore’s stock market)

and if the final conclusion decides that life hurts life and the world is about to perish (if someone enters the correct codes) , at least leave me perpetuate the secret of some of my mixtures


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 2, 2006

Poem Edited: Tuesday, August 22, 2006


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