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Pedro Sena-Lino

(B. 1977)

T.S. Eliot said that no poet or artist can be considered on his own since, one way or another, we all are heirs to something or someone. Pedro Sena-Lino is, in my opinion, heir to an illustrious inheritance that he brilliantly reinvents.

Pedro Sena-Lino was born in Lisbon and is currently living in Berlin where he teaches Portuguese and creative writing. He has a PhD in 17th century Portuguese Women’s Literature and, besides being a poet, he also writes fiction and essays. His latest novel was published in 2013.

Poetry books since 2000:

Cosmorama, Constelação dos Antípodas (2000), As flores do sono (2002), o ilimite verde - malcata, sete geografias (2003), biofagia (2003), deste lado da morte ninguém responde (2005), zona de perda - livro de albas (2006), material angústia (anthology of his 10 years of poetry) (2010)

Poems

Nollendorfplatz. Berlin lovesong

24 Setembro, 2018By bitcliq

the way a ruin dies and comes back to life. so it was, you with me, us.

you never stop generating yourself, old and young city, maiden. i never quite reach your mouth, never sip all of your stone lips.

you start at the end, you invent a river, you keep the sun in a painting. you want sleepless lovers who crush all words against your body. you want your clean fluid, cathedral, absolute desire. you want the hunger of the insane which creates all the grammar of the future.

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you can take back…

you can take back the days you brought
birds buried august
and a rootless man through the window
blinds the sea he swears to have touched with blood
it could have been love if it hadn’t come
so straight from thirst
a double faced mistrust and arms
turned to deserts
the echo of death resounds in the skin
that makes me see your absence filling the streets
paper tears fall to the ground
and belatedness was never so late

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God you may be silence…

God you may be silence but i use words
i make love to you with adverbs
and at times mistreat you with sentences
you used to whisper to me before
your risen morning
when i lean you against me and you are water
you create another and yet another language

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all cities are anchored…

all cities are anchored on a verse
someone left ablaze in a dead man’s mouth
there are bits of sun leaving it within reach
of an unsteady heart that at every step sucks
death and its most subtle edges
the ruined realisations of being alive
i made the book a biblical body of myself
and turned God ordinary for my sake
i pierced my body next to the calvary
and yet Jerusalem did not stick to my tongue

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[colourful song]

she says subject
he says complement
she says us
he says I
she says love
he says bed
she says always
he says now
she says marriage
he says affair
she writes
he erases
she feels
he hides
he is he
she is both
that’s why she’s the one who multiplies

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[Brecht’s cemetery]

my childhood is a deserted animal gnawing at God’s escarpments
i hear it breathing the light still
aware of the shadow blindness that heaps over my days
i search for the one born yesterday from now
it’s a handless movement
we are separated by a body but united by a city
we are the interference of light before light
and i want to dismiss my eyes but i am the blindness

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