Journeys in Molecular Drift #0
Deep Sea Dyve - Chapter minus 1
"drowned in the semaphore of triads, seaweed by lynch wrist-cuffed and footbound
dragging me, mobbed to the blood palpitation of a sporing ocean floor"
As a friend of mine had said, no organisation or person can claim ownership of moral or ethical compasses. Here I present a song of the sea-surface, in all solemnity, of a social justice written in knots.
http://www.archaeology.org/9611/abstracts/inka.html
a plain-chant of death of 'the soldiers' wife" - talking through my knots
loose trans. by arielito
She came from the Sea (double meaning - wine of the sea)
Wrapped up in blue water
The wind brought her from far away
Sleeping in
Waves of foam and salt
of her own fatal wound
She came from the Sea
With a scar
Dividing her chest in two
traversed by
A furious dagger
Which perpetuates powerlessness
Swept from the Sea
Whiter than salt
into the dark artery of my love
And there she arrived
Dead on a grey beach
Under a twilight glow
Swept from the Sea
Blacker than coal
To illuminate the night of my love
that became
A fire without fury
To warm my heart
Swept from the Sea
And it was a blue star
Dancing in high waves of salt
You came to me
Because I attest here
to the knot of eternity
http://selucha.net/post/4167582122/marta-ugarte song dedicated directly to her.. 'the soldiers' wife...'
'After four months of searching, Ms Díaz and her mother, a
washerwoman, met a woman recently released from Villa Grimaldi, a secret
detention centre. She had a message for them from Marta Ugarte, another of the
many communist leaders interned there. Ugarte's wrists had broken after she was
strung up from the ceiling and her breasts were burned with a blow-lamp. She
wanted them to know that neither she nor Mr Díaz would ever get out alive.' extract from The Economist 2007
http://www.economist.com/node/9017531?story_id=9017531
Memory, social justice, knots, music.
"drowned in the semaphore of triads, seaweed by lynch wrist-cuffed and footbound
dragging me, mobbed to the blood palpitation of a sporing ocean floor"
As a friend of mine had said, no organisation or person can claim ownership of moral or ethical compasses. Here I present a song of the sea-surface, in all solemnity, of a social justice written in knots.
http://www.archaeology.org/9611/abstracts/inka.html
a plain-chant of death of 'the soldiers' wife" - talking through my knots
loose trans. by arielito
She came from the Sea (double meaning - wine of the sea)
Wrapped up in blue water
The wind brought her from far away
Sleeping in
Waves of foam and salt
of her own fatal wound
She came from the Sea
With a scar
Dividing her chest in two
traversed by
A furious dagger
Which perpetuates powerlessness
Swept from the Sea
Whiter than salt
into the dark artery of my love
And there she arrived
Dead on a grey beach
Under a twilight glow
Swept from the Sea
Blacker than coal
To illuminate the night of my love
that became
A fire without fury
To warm my heart
Swept from the Sea
And it was a blue star
Dancing in high waves of salt
You came to me
Because I attest here
to the knot of eternity
http://selucha.net/post/4167582122/marta-ugarte song dedicated directly to her.. 'the soldiers' wife...'
'After four months of searching, Ms Díaz and her mother, a
washerwoman, met a woman recently released from Villa Grimaldi, a secret
detention centre. She had a message for them from Marta Ugarte, another of the
many communist leaders interned there. Ugarte's wrists had broken after she was
strung up from the ceiling and her breasts were burned with a blow-lamp. She
wanted them to know that neither she nor Mr Díaz would ever get out alive.' extract from The Economist 2007
http://www.economist.com/node/9017531?story_id=9017531
Memory, social justice, knots, music.
