T (no first name) Wignesan

T (no first name) Wignesan Poems

1. Notre Terre Qui Est À Votre Taille 7/11/2012
2. Siluroid 7/11/2012
3. Over Which Cat's Shoulders Is Raised The Lintel 7/11/2012
4. Curse Of Caste 7/11/2012
5. Boy Running In The Rain... 7/11/2012
6. A Reluctant Sayonara 7/11/2012
7. Bikku Under The Bodhi Tree 7/11/2012
8. Sing Haughty Yacht-Y Yea 7/11/2012
9. Radically Chinese 7/11/2012
10. Komori 7/11/2012
11. Embryo 7/11/2012
12. Way Out Over Copland's Appalachian Springs 7/11/2012
13. Give Me Back My Name 7/11/2012
14. Block Fall From The Zyklon Door 7/11/2012
15. Born To Die At Stromboli 7/11/2012
16. Akbar, The Great (1542 - 1605) 7/11/2012
17. Golden Secrets In The Flower 7/11/2012
18. Prologue To Declining Change 7/11/2012
19. Little Clock 7/12/2012
20. I Saw A Tree A-Falling... 7/12/2012
21. Declining Change - X 7/12/2012
22. Gérard Sekoto, In Memorium (1913-1993) 7/12/2012
23. Too Late For Amends 7/12/2012
24. Blinks Through Bloodshot Walks 7/12/2012
25. Unheeded In The Spread Of His Name, Quaking 7/12/2012
26. The Solitary Oak On Mount Kremlin-Bicêtre 7/12/2012
27. The Snake Charmer And The Hamadryad 7/12/2012
28. Bedtime On Tramp 7/13/2012
29. The Partitioned Wailing-Wall 7/13/2012
30. Coal-Truck 7/13/2012
31. Night In The Eyes, Invading 7/13/2012
32. Doppelgänger 7/13/2012
33. The Urchin In Dr. Radhakrishnan Rd. 7/13/2012
34. The Shore Temple In Mahaballipuram 7/13/2012
35. Krishna's Advice To Arjuna 7/13/2012
36. Tuan Tata, Song Of Uda - 1 7/13/2012
37. The Best Of The Night To You, Too, Bala... 7/13/2012
38. Wake! Asia! Wake! (Part One) 7/13/2012
39. Career 7/13/2012
40. Letter To... From A Classic Archetypal Dope 7/13/2012
Best Poem of T (no first name) Wignesan

The Sensation Of Nothingness, Translation Of Carlos Bousono's Poem: Sensacion De La Nada

Consider, no matter what, even something agreeable
falls so low: in the pureness
of metaphysics, in the sublime
brightness of nothingness.
In the cubic emptiness, in the number
of fire. It’s the bonfire
which causes inanity to burn. In the centre
no wind whatsoever blows. It is the fire
pure, pure nothingness. No being inhabited by faith,
there is no extension. The reduction of the world
to a point, to a number which suffers.
Because it is hideous, a symbolical endurance,
without the uncertain material which enlivens it.
Is it the unwaveringness of ...

Read the full of The Sensation Of Nothingness, Translation Of Carlos Bousono's Poem: Sensacion De La Nada


I am the prize catch
I live in an artificial lake
fed by a nappe phréatique
I was put there to keep
lesser fish: carp
from taking up too much space
I live to be caught
and caught again
and be let loose as rain

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