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With Love The Fate Of Neutral Norway

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new.

Apologies for the lack of activity upon the NN blog. We are currently working on transferring to an alternate address. Keep checking to see if we did it yet…then check that one. newt ral norweigh x

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Noigandres

Concrete poetry from the people who made it concrete poetry, the Noigandres group from Brazil.

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want one?

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CONGRATULATIONS NEIGHBOUR YOU ARE A HOMOSAPIEN NOW.

how softly we bash against nothing.

the soft scythe.

no use for a name

we bathe in more steam than water.

we plan our captive nothingess and race

to face our mothers

DREAMING of the day

our passports fit in our pockets, our wallets,

making space for me in knicker drawers,

lavender bagged identification drooling over 32C’s.

we grow out of beds made above us,

treating our lovers like our daughters.

then shifting shifts our noses to the sky

making sure we can see over

our jewishness.

raised voices and forgiveness on rye

with salmonella traces on your gentle hands we kiss.

don’t do this. asparagus tips. sliced onion tears of acetic life

hermaphroditic spelling of homogeneous copulation,

sexual beings fucking kittens with breasts and bottoms like tinkerberries.

we will fuck so we will grow.

white wine muscles stay hot in our bowl,

rice grain eyes.

morning breath notions of self love. hard cocks. strong hands.

uncontrollable urges we have never had want for.

we have. we use. swap our skins contort our bodies let our wrists catch

up with our minds

wrench our tongues

out of our mouths

reach and know

if not reach and try

and boil our food ’till its fired we die.

tea spoons in our hands face in dinner plates.

posture possesses nothing of me. i am a rump.

we hope we will amount to something in the eyes of nobody.

nothing in the eyes of all.

congratulations neighbour you are a homosapien now.

 

miamockervinski.

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The Stolen Child

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we’ve hid out faery vats,
Full of berries
And the reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters of the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery hand in hand,
From a world more full of weeping than he can understand.


Yeats.

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if someone has this under a pile of other art or has accidently stuck it up on their wall, please return it safe and whole to the artiste, because its very upsetting otherwise xx

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