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I THINK TABLE AND I SAY CHAIR / Gloria Fuertes (translated by Ada Long and Philip Levine) I think table and I say chair, I buy bread and I lose it, whatever I learn I forget, and what this means is I love you. The harrow says it all and the huddled beggar, the fish that flies through the living room, the bull bellowing in his last corner. Between Santander and Asturias a river runs, deer pass, a herd of saints pass, a great load passes. Between my blood and my tears there is a tiny bridge, and nothing crosses, what this means is I love you. The Missouri Review · 9 SOCIETY OF FRIENDS AND PROTECTORS / Gloria Fuertes (translated by Ada Long and Philip Levine) To the Society of Friends and Protectors of Spirits, Ghosts, and Goblins. Dear Sirs: I have the sad duty to inform you that in my apartment and at your disposal I have a little ghost some two deads old who speaks Polish and claims to be the ghost of Genghis Khan. He's dressed in a plain fishing net stamped "made in Uranus" and torn in the hem, which I'm afraid to mend because he won't hold still. He appears in the late afternoon or in the morning on cloudy days, and at night he rides me piggyback or crawls inside my head and cracks walnuts. He starts fights with the dog, and he's making me a nervous wreck. He won't leave, he says, because he doesn't feel like it. Every day he disappears with my milk, he hides my hairbrush, my peace of mind, my scissors; when Tm lucky enough to fall asleep he howls through the attic with all his might. I beg you to do what must be done to get out of my apartment this thing I've spoken of before I start to fall for him. 10 ¦ The Missouri Review INSTRUCTIONS / Gloria Fuertes (translated by Ada Long and Philip Levine) Let us learn at last from the darkness, from the animals, let us imitate the manners of the flowers, from the insects let us learn life, and from the grass, dance. Let us understand the peace of savages. The afternoon darkens; the beggar closes up shop, gathers his handkerchief on which he sometimes clears two-bits an hour. Our Luisa passes wrapped around her Pepe. Tere, the chestnut seller, spits from her bad lungs, and her son, the bellhop, pretends he's tough. As I was saying last night, that's all that goes on here. At last two angels raise the moon as though it were a political banner. The Missouri Review · 11 ...

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Additional Information

ISSN
1548-9930
Print ISSN
0191-1961
Pages
pp. 9-11
Launched on MUSE
2011-10-05
Open Access
No
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