☀ Today's Poem: "[this is not a travel book because travel is not a book of travel]" Haroldo de Campos

this is not a travel book because travel is not a book of travel
because a book is travel at best i aver it's a baedeker of epiphanies
at worst i can swear it's an epiphany in a baedeker for golden domes of
an orthodox russo-byzantine church set deep in geneva going downhill
on route de malagnou heading to the city center through a glimpsed
vision of the oldtown and canals one could get married whynot next to the chinese
lions that some fatherfriar wayfarer returning from a journey a
pilgrimage to oriental missions learned to sculpt at the entrance of the esplanade
of convento de são francisco northern paraíba at the cobblestoned entrance
overflowing eight mouths of portalgates in contained and then scattered
steps drying racks of stone and joão pessoa in the summer rain was not
an island by gauguin bronzing away in the distance paradisiacal peace in an iamb of silks
and hair blowing in the wind plumed quill in the sultry summer and seated in a café
in genève miss stromboli entreteneuse entertainer dead in her apartment
nobody knowing how miss stromboli nom de guerre due to her
myriademented temperament a volcano in the swiss frost and a homeless
pup a furry pom-pom pooch dripping wet from rain that day
in genève making the genf newspaper headlines miss stromboli erupting
like a geyser of red hair a sure case of strangulation and the
poor petite stabbed prostitute from paraíba with perfectly primped dark
pubis without nom de guerre bleeding unto death reeking of urine no
homeless pooch no fancy pure-bred champagne cocker spaniel or
fancy pedigree gray poodle whimpering in the rain for the golden dome
of the orthodox church of genève shone golden orbs against the sun and the
baroque church of joão pessoa frozen in its lake of stone slabs flanked
by chinese dragons in the rainsun of summer nothing new in the world under the
rainsun the similar resembling the dissimilar a baedeker of visages
you know you'll accept a palette die weitaus beliebteste farbige filter-
zigarette exquisite taste le goût exquis des meilleurs tabacs ses couleurs
attrayantes et l'élégance de sa présentation piacciono a tutti in tutto
il mondo signorina stromboli or the petite prostitute from paraíba made
the front page in genève like blood gushing from the gash
throat slashed in a cubicle reeking of urine and the latter is the former or the former is
the latter while the wind swells when a swan dies in the zürichsee it's news in the zurich
papers because nothing ever happens the yeardays of the days of week-
years but fräulein stromboli as if amid fatbald businessmen of
familylife and garçonnière apartment his rented blonde like a check-
stub the big-business bosses the industry bosses the business
bigwigs a volcano was she while the waiter garçon chats with the patronne
about the news of the day and someone writes letters in a café in geneva drinking
geneva gin recounting other deaths computing other fates while the
police die polizei investigates les flics investigate smoking tips of palette cigarette
butts l'art suprême supreme artistry of the attractive presentation mlle.
stromboli in the deluxe shoeboxapartment for the nightly pleasures of the ruddy-
fatsos fathersofthenation doll strangled not knowing unable to know who would
know her death her fate her state a minuscule volcano of a tale told