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Crazy In Corumbá

Zog.  Hatted a gnat-fish,

But died.  Skood a splight,

Chiggle was a capybara,

Jeg Spooch hogged the fleen.


All ended.  Bag skat a zebra,

Jog dopped eleven frog,

Water beet a doppel spang,

Hoogly fosh a kroot.


But now he was in love.

Before, with Anne it had been simply lust

In a summer`s hay-field,

Older woman and all that.


Now the greatest playwright ever to be

Was going to have to marry her,

Not the lovely girl he had sunk into joyous

Miraculous love with, at the tender age


Of only eighteen.  There was the laboratory

Of life and passion for our Will.

Then came MacBeth and Hamlet

And Juliet and Ophelia.


And all the little ducks they came and jumped into the fire

As squiggled fears and Brabazons knocked toads into the mire.

There was one ancient Mystery who cooed up to the sky

But stopped because the Cosmos was condensed into a fly.





The green of the Pantanal

Sublimely surrounds Corumbá

As the heat of the day

And the clear blue of the sky

Surrounds your flesh

And the scents and perfumes

Drown your senses

Into lovely stupidity

And caipirinha flows

Down your soft throat

In the drenched nights happily

Extinguishing anxiety


And you dream

In lemon-flowers and coloured

Parakeets, toucans flapping

Near swifts and vultures

Of violent colours

In deep surprise


Tim Cloudsley nació Cambridge, Inglaterra. Es sociologo, escritor y poeta. Trabajó como profesor en la Escuela de Idiomas, de la Universidad Industrial de Santander, Bucaramanga en el ámbito de estudios culturales y literatura.

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