The Grapevine Telegraph by H Bolin and S Whittemore

What Portuguese word did you miss the most when you lived in Europe?

I didn’t miss anything in a nostalgic way or something like this I just adapted to my environment, I was living, making a life there. I adapted to other circumstances. So I never lost my Portuguese in fact. I just added layers. A French layer, a German layer.

2 contemporary Brazilian poets that people have to read

Again, I don’t think people have to read them. Life happens by chance. Things happen to us in the flow. Under circumstances. Not under obligation. Of course I can recommend 2 women that I like a lot, I have worked with them both, and both have been translated into english: Marília Garcia and Adelaide Ivánova. I like them both for different reasons. Oh, and also Carla Diacov.

Did Bolsonaro really get stabbed yes or no?

I don’t know what this word "stabbed" means. So I don’t know if he got this "stabbed" yes or not. But Bolsonaro is bullshit, anyway. But you know we are living in a kind of complot or conspiracy here. We are living in a coup d’etat and we also have this big drone flying over our heads, the U.S.A. We are an experiment of capitalism, it’s very clear. I don’t know how we are going to survive this experiment. The same way people survive in other historical times.

Stab = "facada"

Yes, I think the stabbing was fake. There's a very good documentary about it.

Best advice for writing a funny poem?

I don’t know what advice to give. If you put yourself in a situation where you can laugh at yourself it’s a good start. So if you are able to manage this public laughing you are very able to touch people. Because laughing is about fragility. For me it’s very natural.

Tell us about the poem "Today I went to buy bread"

The poem "This morning I went to buy bread" is part of a longer series, only 3 sections are presented here. I wrote this poem when I met Marie Carangi in Berlin. I was fascinated by her presence, her energy, she is very alive. Also I really like her work, so I bought this T-shirt from her.
So there is this guy at the bakery near my house in Berlin who started flirting with me every time I went there. And then one time I was wearing this T-shirt and he started a conversation with me about the shirt, that’s something I don’t mention in the poem. He tried to read the shirt and thought it said “Bruschetta” which is an Italian word for food. And because of that I started to write a poem when I got home that day.
It really made me think- I was in Berlin at the time and people cannot recognize this word written on my shirt. If I had been in Brazil people would have been able to understand this shirt.
But then I moved back to Brazil, and I was here in Brazil during the elections. The third section of the poem "Today I went to buy bread" was written after the election. Brazil is completely crazy with all the signs and misinterpretation in the media, all the misreading. So this poem is also about misreading. Maybe you cannot understand in your context but in Brazil, people had strong reactions to this shirt had the word “Pussy” [Buceta] written on it, simply because the letters were red. So I used the red lettering from the shirt to play with the clichés that circulate in our time in Brazil. The communist clichés. In the poem I try to create two different sides arguing about this shirt: one left-wing and one right-wing. They argue with each other about the truth of this shirt but there is no truth in fact. Because this word [Buceta] is the plurality of meaning. So I’m playing a lot with this. It’s not the first poem where I’m playing this kind of game with meaning and interpretation.

THIS MORNING I WENT TO BUY BREAD...

this morning
I went to buy bread
at the turkish bakery
beneath my house
it was closed
the second option
closest to my house
is the organic supermarket
bio company
it sells french bread
fresh
every day
except sundays
and holidays
it’s kind of expensive
it’s expensive but it’s good
it’s good but it’s expensive
what to do?
it shouldn’t be in the bible
but in the declaration
of universal human
rights
the people do not live by bread alone
but every human being has
should have the right
the right to eat bread
every day
at least
once a day
I have said and I swear by it



this morning
I went out to buy bread
I went out in my white tee
the new one
I bought from marie
marie carangi
the lyric tit
I slept with it
I woke up with it
not with the tit
or her pussy
just the white tee
that’s it
it’s a white t-shirt
normal, super basic
the only special thing
about it
if we can put it
like that
is the word “Pussy!”
written in bright red
silk screen technique
with a capital letter at the beginning
and an exclamation mark
at the end



this morning
I went out to buy bread
any coincidence
is merely a coincidence
but there are no coincidences
todxs we know
there may be conspiracy
framing a lot of blah blah blah
u know like sexual tension or even the woman
from Taubaté who was pregnant
from the ET’s in Varghina
superbae plzzzzz #elenão ikr?
but a coincidence
a real coincidence
the kind that
really shocks you
makes your hair stand up
I don’t believe in this kind of coincidence
that being said
we can conjecture
the way Pussy! is red
that is
the way Pussy! is written
in verrrry red letters
does it mean
it's a communist pussy?
or a gayist pussy?
is it a working pussy?
from the workers' party?
or is it from that demonic sect?
the MTST? or MST?
is it a Cuban pussy?
or Venezuelan?
is it an American pussy?
or is it a Martian pussy?
is it really a pussy?
a real pussy?
or is it one we
only see on TV?
can you buy it at the flea market?
can I pay by card?
if it is red
does that mean
it’s menstruating?
or is it a manipulated pussy?
is it a bank of america pussy?
or did it suck up to santander?
is the pussy still public?
or has it been privatized?
is it a an activist pussy?
or did it get corrupted?
is it super jaded?
or super engaged?
did it take up arms?
or is it part of the army?
is it a pussy fascista?
or one of those fashionistas?
hooded? or militarized?
or is it a total neoliberal type?
is it free?
free fallin'?
or is it a shy pussy?
is it a fake pussy?
or it's just making a charming?
cooking you in the bain-marie?
does it have a soft spot for you?
or are you just playing hard to get?
playing hardball
like a competition
pole vaulting
hurtles shotput
fuck knows what else?
what actually is a pussy?
what's it good for?
can you explain it to me better?
what are you afraid of?
are you just gonna look
or are you gonna eat it?

A POEM THAT COMES FROM MY BANANA FILE AND GOES ALONG WITH MY MISTAKEN BANANA FEELINGS “HOW THE WORLD WAS CREATED IN 7 DAYS/ AND SUDDENLY SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENED” IN 2 A4 PAGES IN PORTUGUESE WITH SPANISH TRANSLATION MADE UP WITH THE HELP OF A COLOMBIAN FRIEND JUAN DIEGO OTERO A POET

TWO LANGUAGES WERE SWALLOWED BY AN EVIL FISH LAST NIGHT IN THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE LEAVING NO TRACE BUT THE PEEL OF A BANANA FROM A POEM FIRST SHARED BY A FRIEND ERICA IN A BRAZILIAN STYLE OF PORTUGUESE

el mundo fue creado en 7 días
on the seventh day
it was sleepy
so sleepy
that it decided to take a little nap
still keeping all its work contracts
and its union memberships
y todo eso
and just like that
sleeping
sleeping
so profoundly
that it got sick
and it didn’t wake up again
until today
nobody knew whose fault it was
if it was the fault
of the mosquitoes
of the mites
of the ticks
if it had an allergy
if it suffered from Tachycardia
if it drank a lot of alcohol
if it was addicted to tobacco
if it had a jaundice
if it was surprised
by the peel of a banana
if it was attacked
by a motorcycle
at a high velocity
by a stray bullet
a mutant bacteria
very dangerous               fatal
de facto or de jure
it entered into a profound coma
nobody knew if it was the fault
of the notary
of the kids
of the communists
who eat little kids
of the fairy tales
of the evil witch
of the villain in a Mexican novel
of the scalpers at the entrance
of the football stadiums
of the vip area dos estádios
de futebol
of the football confederations
and the $$ for the teams
de futebol
of the evangelical pastors
reproaching the pious
for going to the stadiums
of football
of the football players
that play in the stadiums
of football
of the girlfriends of the players
that play football
of those who are for
of those who are against
of those who live only making jokes
of those who live above
of the dried flesh
of those who survive below
of the dried flesh
of those who always have
an apology for everything
of those who are almost always
on the fence
of the children working
as drug mules
crossing the fences the walls
of the airplane full
of cocaine that passes
over the walls
of the coke earned under the table
duplicating the fences the walls
of the coyotes’ vultures
of the things that we see on TV
of the things that we don’t see on TV
until today
it still hasn’t returned
the medical report declares
a vegetal state
the machines keep it afloat
thinking they’re keeping it afloat
doing a good service
nobody knows until when exactly
still we are waiting
there it goes
¿no?
now yes
like that
look anyways
we send you greetings






translations from Portuguese by HB

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Érica Zíngano is an Italian-Brazilian poet, although her Italian heritage is more of a legal attachment than a realized identity. "It allows me to live in Europe, without facing so much bureaucratic problems. For an immigrant, it's a REAL privilege." Born in 1980 in Brazil and raised in the northeastern city Fortaleza, very early she discovered a clear desire for movement, probably during her childhood travels to the south of Brazil to join her father's family in Porto Alegre, at least 5.000 km from her hometown. Very early she understood that her inherited identity traits – heavy luggages one has to carry without asking why – could never be reduced, in her case, to the fiction of one single place.

So, then, when she was more sure about her own movements and desires, driven by the idea to keep studying and working – always a good excuse to keep a safe distance from the family and, of course, to be up to something else –, she decided to move to other cities and countries, trying to see from other points of view, by far and through different perspectives, the strong dichotomy between the north and the south of Brazil she carries in her body, in a way to connect to that very tensioned line new and unexpected landscapes