Tuesday, June 9, 2020
EDOUARD GLISSANT ~
November
And the oar is rooted in its waiting for a new land. Love for you,
Oceania, is a rag tied to a mast, a coconut palm of fog at your side,
Oceania in your shadow which is like a cathedral commemorating
the uncivilized and I tame the waves of your robes Asia and Europe in our childhoods Asia a coral polyp living and feeding on itself, between sky and battle, which Europe is a field of nails. No longer hearing the rusted stream of wild butterflies on a thick day. Ever more fierce, the elections of assassins in the beautiful cancerous rain. O the loveliest rain in which to pile up our skins, the loveliest O fingers of lianas in the brush of the ringing desert Africa. The final mission was to mislead the word through the rich deafness of scorched Tropics. Like a summation of memory—intoxicated fruits in the mute desire of the banana trees.
____________
Edouard Glissant
The Collected Poetry
University of Minnesota Press
2005
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_ZB2wu8G3ubSZXLMKG2rGh6tw0qZDFyKxaDA6I7qjlFhg2yvVt3EtlSGY9GTXEBeuGa7KXYFOFUrO32JLTCdg77n3D5nvm-pyWoX7E9G_w_j9DAdZYoI778KodrAvixh6GYXd522eRCT/s640/greenbird.jpg)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)