Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Anny Ballardini

The Barcelona I have never seen
How many masks wear we, and undermasks,
Upon our countenance of soul,
Fernando Pessoa, VIII

A wide expanse of walls:
surrounding thoughts
cool in summer / cold in winter
in those damp dark months
of a Barcelona I have never seen
cracked cups, blurred screens mirroring
wet windowpanes
a row of hanging pictures of departed
stiff on sepia paper, plastically distant ancestors
where their soul? Time stolen
in narrow twisting roads
echoing battering hooves
clatter, noisy rumors, disturbing chatter
to crash you into a claustral charm

no, this is not your Barcelona
maybe a distant Lisboa brought to life by Pessoa
with a restaurant, a walk, a glass of Oporto
and lines and skies, and infinite stars
trapped inside an expanse of walls
cool in summer / cold for all


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