<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="no"?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><rss xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" version="2.0"><channel><title>! Intimidades da Curiosa </title><description></description><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</managingEditor><pubDate>Sun, 11 Jan 2026 06:09:51 -0300</pubDate><generator>Blogger http://www.blogger.com</generator><openSearch:totalResults xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/">220</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/">1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/">25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/</link><language>en-us</language><itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit><itunes:subtitle/><itunes:category text="Arts"><itunes:category text="Literature"/></itunes:category><itunes:owner><itunes:email>noreply@blogger.com</itunes:email></itunes:owner><xhtml:meta content="noindex" name="robots" xmlns:xhtml="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"/><item><title>porque a Escrevente ... ficou sem título ...</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2014/05/por-que-escrevente-ficou-sem-titulo.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa)</author><pubDate>Fri, 4 Apr 2025 14:33:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-1481896568890754901</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;DO POETAR ou DO SUICÍDIO DA POETA&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
queria morrer&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
mas entrevia um poema&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;na própria morte que lhe atendia&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
queria escrever&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
mas lhe escorria o poema&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;na própria vida que se esvaia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
queria morrer&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
mas se lhe insistia tal poema&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;na própria respiração que lhe retornava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Escreveu&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
(Curiosa)&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente busca suas forças internas</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/05/porque-escrevente-busca-suas-forcas.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Fri, 4 Apr 2025 13:45:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-2987870699697807810</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
ENDEUSADA&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
vestiu a máscara &lt;br /&gt;
e criou o dia&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
a luz do sol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;lhe balançava as saias&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Curiosa)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;ENDEUSADA I&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;acessou&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;o próprio holograma&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;e criou o dia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;a luz do sol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;lhe ionizava a mente&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zZLOyjGgD6Poq2N9jJgoJZXwEt9GHRVDyns52Ja11EvKZMYRc2gOz-dRBuNqf2KXgEheXNbag4JBGOxxM0Y62SGfI7c5MiWYLGYFmb1H1b9_j_t_r4NrvBM7BA_CCkqTZpP6wgGTftal/s1600/tumblr_m7azieWxTr1r1prqko1_r2_500.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zZLOyjGgD6Poq2N9jJgoJZXwEt9GHRVDyns52Ja11EvKZMYRc2gOz-dRBuNqf2KXgEheXNbag4JBGOxxM0Y62SGfI7c5MiWYLGYFmb1H1b9_j_t_r4NrvBM7BA_CCkqTZpP6wgGTftal/s400/tumblr_m7azieWxTr1r1prqko1_r2_500.jpg" width="273" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zZLOyjGgD6Poq2N9jJgoJZXwEt9GHRVDyns52Ja11EvKZMYRc2gOz-dRBuNqf2KXgEheXNbag4JBGOxxM0Y62SGfI7c5MiWYLGYFmb1H1b9_j_t_r4NrvBM7BA_CCkqTZpP6wgGTftal/s72-c/tumblr_m7azieWxTr1r1prqko1_r2_500.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente nem sempre sente o que escreve</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2011/11/porque-escrevente-nem-sempre-sente-o.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Sat, 15 Mar 2025 17:02:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-6234259519344457510</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
E&lt;i&gt;scre&lt;/i&gt;XISTINDO&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
quando&lt;br /&gt;
não consegue mais se reinventar&lt;br /&gt;deslembrada de si&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
a Poeta escreve &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
quando&lt;br /&gt;
lhe sangra os olhos&lt;br /&gt;
e lhe seca o corpo&lt;br /&gt;
de dor ou de amor&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
a Poeta escreve&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
quando esquece&lt;br /&gt;
porque rompeu ou porque amava &lt;br /&gt;
ou porque sorria ou porque existia&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
a Poeta escreve&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
e escreve e escreve e escreve&lt;br /&gt;
em busca do não-dito&lt;br /&gt;
que lhe nomeie as lembranças&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
e lhe traga o &lt;i&gt;escressentido&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
(Curiosa)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
..&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">16</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente nunca é ela mesma</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/12/porque-escrevente-nunca-e-ela-mesma.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Tue, 7 Jan 2025 12:07:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-3250620877547354912</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
TRANSTORNO DISSOCIATIVO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;poeto minha sombra&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;mais que minha luz&lt;br /&gt;meu luto&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;mais que meu gozo&lt;br /&gt;meus vícios&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;mais que minha justeza&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;poeto meus Eus&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;mais que eu mesma&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa"&gt;Curiosa da Vida&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8TBFMguiUA2EhyphenhyphenEi4ke2r_icL0MTpj4WL0T_RG7vyDg8opawrNx6pPgxoDES7_jB__4dm_a5-G0WzJMCS_3k9mMR-3kPKfn6tARLqTIhaIl8Izlfjn3fMi0Pt9LSS9afk4rEkmJVc2HQ/s1600/eus.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8TBFMguiUA2EhyphenhyphenEi4ke2r_icL0MTpj4WL0T_RG7vyDg8opawrNx6pPgxoDES7_jB__4dm_a5-G0WzJMCS_3k9mMR-3kPKfn6tARLqTIhaIl8Izlfjn3fMi0Pt9LSS9afk4rEkmJVc2HQ/w200-h200/eus.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8TBFMguiUA2EhyphenhyphenEi4ke2r_icL0MTpj4WL0T_RG7vyDg8opawrNx6pPgxoDES7_jB__4dm_a5-G0WzJMCS_3k9mMR-3kPKfn6tARLqTIhaIl8Izlfjn3fMi0Pt9LSS9afk4rEkmJVc2HQ/s72-w200-h200-c/eus.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente tem um insight Poético</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2011/03/insight-poetico.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Tue, 7 Jan 2025 11:55:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-2746616709634991224</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
METAPOÉTICA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o poema&lt;br /&gt;existe por si só&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vez que outra&lt;br /&gt;conseguimos decifrá-lo&lt;br /&gt;decodificando-o em palavras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o poema&lt;br /&gt;é como ver o brilho de uma estrela:&lt;br /&gt;quando nós o escrevemos&lt;br /&gt;ele já não está mais lá&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Curiosa)&lt;/div&gt;
</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">16</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente sente a Morte, a Vida e o Poema - vez em quando</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2015/03/porque-escrevente-sente-morte-vida-e-o.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Thu, 12 Mar 2015 21:16:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-3146250634828417241</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
NOTA DE FALECIMENTO&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
teve vasculhadas as gavetas&lt;br /&gt;
desvendados os segredos &lt;br /&gt;
despidos os versos&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
nua, por fim - percebeu&lt;br /&gt;
estava morta&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
morta-viva&lt;br /&gt;
na fenda do tempo habitado de si&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(passeavam as moscas)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
o corpo - as coisas as moscas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
- a vida - seguia sem ela&lt;br /&gt;
no poema&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa" target="_blank"&gt;Curiosa da Vida&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0j-Ga5bFPzQrjng839htfBSXzyXV-M1SeioLaoMsS3bShTdEMc0CYZyELP1T35uAhd09r6ErTy8Hu5GAJ84BHeUK2WR0cPOiBoBW83UkSGQKbDb5u_odu1mtzBtlSUUksG0_kp8nMHtVr/s1600/050.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0j-Ga5bFPzQrjng839htfBSXzyXV-M1SeioLaoMsS3bShTdEMc0CYZyELP1T35uAhd09r6ErTy8Hu5GAJ84BHeUK2WR0cPOiBoBW83UkSGQKbDb5u_odu1mtzBtlSUUksG0_kp8nMHtVr/w320-h240/050.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Fotografia de Ramsés Albertoni&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0j-Ga5bFPzQrjng839htfBSXzyXV-M1SeioLaoMsS3bShTdEMc0CYZyELP1T35uAhd09r6ErTy8Hu5GAJ84BHeUK2WR0cPOiBoBW83UkSGQKbDb5u_odu1mtzBtlSUUksG0_kp8nMHtVr/s72-w320-h240-c/050.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">15</thr:total></item><item><title>porque só por hoje, a Escrevente ...</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2015/02/porque-escrevente.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Thu, 26 Feb 2015 22:46:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-7785073628880672577</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWZpiosq_5nt35zGQJddSAAWFxgH3lQtGBDqRCLHUv52rLGLVt5jdl3Sg67fz8aa-rS1IwG-mkyKhnbk9IffKDA9axPztP510-90gS-c3eQG4BPmIJJA7dZqboblikAZH-HZcFc6sbXPO/s1600/penitencia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWZpiosq_5nt35zGQJddSAAWFxgH3lQtGBDqRCLHUv52rLGLVt5jdl3Sg67fz8aa-rS1IwG-mkyKhnbk9IffKDA9axPztP510-90gS-c3eQG4BPmIJJA7dZqboblikAZH-HZcFc6sbXPO/s1600/penitencia.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipWZpiosq_5nt35zGQJddSAAWFxgH3lQtGBDqRCLHUv52rLGLVt5jdl3Sg67fz8aa-rS1IwG-mkyKhnbk9IffKDA9axPztP510-90gS-c3eQG4BPmIJJA7dZqboblikAZH-HZcFc6sbXPO/s72-c/penitencia.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente está presa em si mesma</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2015/02/por-que-escrevente-esta-presa-em-si.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Thu, 26 Feb 2015 22:44:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-3906496726690342708</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eUlE0_0j6-CVBIcYtWwLqdG8Xf-8tusZ06lmYa4yUMvFXzGqGHt5ydAkfD4sIQ8CWA-O01-l7WvulrESD1FsaQU0SFwpOd0dC0O0smI_Qa4GGCFvSVvW6KrBL10R1sLvJtAZ0pW_nJg/s1600/artwork_images_119039_444586_susan-meiselas.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eUlE0_0j6-CVBIcYtWwLqdG8Xf-8tusZ06lmYa4yUMvFXzGqGHt5ydAkfD4sIQ8CWA-O01-l7WvulrESD1FsaQU0SFwpOd0dC0O0smI_Qa4GGCFvSVvW6KrBL10R1sLvJtAZ0pW_nJg/w320-h214/artwork_images_119039_444586_susan-meiselas.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;CONDENADA&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;respirava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;apenas&lt;br /&gt;por que sentia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
sentia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;apenas&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;quando lhe doía&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
doía&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;apenas&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;por que respirava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;CONDENADA&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;respirava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;porque doía&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;doía&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;porque sentia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;sentia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;porque respirava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;CONDENADA&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;sentia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;só quando doía&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;doía&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;só quando respirava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;respirava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"&gt;só porque sentia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eUlE0_0j6-CVBIcYtWwLqdG8Xf-8tusZ06lmYa4yUMvFXzGqGHt5ydAkfD4sIQ8CWA-O01-l7WvulrESD1FsaQU0SFwpOd0dC0O0smI_Qa4GGCFvSVvW6KrBL10R1sLvJtAZ0pW_nJg/s72-w320-h214-c/artwork_images_119039_444586_susan-meiselas.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente procura palavras</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2014/10/porque-escrevente-procura-palavras.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Sat, 11 Oct 2014 01:14:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-4532548641735733611</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU7yZIXgkdGkhCTY7lhy2mPDRDaiNTV5Kcw2ElZb2dtKhyphenhyphenEzhp8t7TVOomduV0iY9ZnHiZXPtODRgpz7ULH6lCTlhZ7kr7d_Jpn-fy4Hh9Q4vG5J45XtHpmzLZTXHgwW17OLiPQP1pZ658/s1600/er1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU7yZIXgkdGkhCTY7lhy2mPDRDaiNTV5Kcw2ElZb2dtKhyphenhyphenEzhp8t7TVOomduV0iY9ZnHiZXPtODRgpz7ULH6lCTlhZ7kr7d_Jpn-fy4Hh9Q4vG5J45XtHpmzLZTXHgwW17OLiPQP1pZ658/w153-h200/er1.jpg" width="153" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;NOTA DE FALECIMENTO&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
um último verso composto&lt;br /&gt;
o atingiu de forma fatal&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
falava&lt;br /&gt;
em tempos infinitos&lt;br /&gt;
amores eternos&lt;br /&gt;
colos maternos&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
olhos nos olhos&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
um último verso&lt;br /&gt;
aconchegante e devastador&lt;br /&gt;
revelava vida após a vida&lt;br /&gt;
da vida&lt;br /&gt;
que depois de dita&lt;br /&gt;
consumada&lt;br /&gt;
existida&lt;br /&gt;
deixava o nada&lt;br /&gt;
preenchido do todo&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
um último verso:&lt;br /&gt;
o que nomeio não me comporta&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU7yZIXgkdGkhCTY7lhy2mPDRDaiNTV5Kcw2ElZb2dtKhyphenhyphenEzhp8t7TVOomduV0iY9ZnHiZXPtODRgpz7ULH6lCTlhZ7kr7d_Jpn-fy4Hh9Q4vG5J45XtHpmzLZTXHgwW17OLiPQP1pZ658/s72-w153-h200-c/er1.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente quer voltar </title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2014/09/por-que-escrevente-quer-voltar.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Thu, 11 Sep 2014 21:45:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-6543233457199273348</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2LlJE0p09p0MuqLQ6-x_jv77PFJ6xLTneNUqTJVRtWnLqqatHgt17tb2MWbyUWJunVquBnvQimHj9p9HDSIkXX1tKyvRjGQldL5XIxUjLmsuz4Rb8WguaILACDucHvJzKKqb21NCEvvY/s1600/presa.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2LlJE0p09p0MuqLQ6-x_jv77PFJ6xLTneNUqTJVRtWnLqqatHgt17tb2MWbyUWJunVquBnvQimHj9p9HDSIkXX1tKyvRjGQldL5XIxUjLmsuz4Rb8WguaILACDucHvJzKKqb21NCEvvY/s1600/presa.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
ENVELHECER&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
o olhar matreiro&lt;br /&gt;
derrotado pela pálpebra caída&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
foi perdendo um jeito de ver as coisas que possuía&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa"&gt;Curiosa&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo2LlJE0p09p0MuqLQ6-x_jv77PFJ6xLTneNUqTJVRtWnLqqatHgt17tb2MWbyUWJunVquBnvQimHj9p9HDSIkXX1tKyvRjGQldL5XIxUjLmsuz4Rb8WguaILACDucHvJzKKqb21NCEvvY/s72-c/presa.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente é um eterno devir</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2014/06/porque-escrevente-e-um-eterno-devir.html</link><category>a Escrevente</category><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa)</author><pubDate>Mon, 16 Jun 2014 22:45:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-5476291842624125454</guid><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdNeiA1AhZXAVBkIy4JKbCxCrbNNJO5S1STzMU9QTPaPRVo63MwJyaC5CxWUVRTm2A9H57mlLbAqzMv_07mJg7UVcMsuXm-J11_sS__FA6X_JAZZVyDhOcH2ocPRlWvsOa9qYUVlGzvs/s1600/human.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdNeiA1AhZXAVBkIy4JKbCxCrbNNJO5S1STzMU9QTPaPRVo63MwJyaC5CxWUVRTm2A9H57mlLbAqzMv_07mJg7UVcMsuXm-J11_sS__FA6X_JAZZVyDhOcH2ocPRlWvsOa9qYUVlGzvs/s1600/human.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
há gentes batendo na porta?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
diga que estou ocupada&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
- que talho em abstrato&lt;br /&gt;
minha face&lt;br /&gt;
com memórias do nada&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
que concebo sonhos e ilusões&lt;br /&gt;com palha e cristal&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
impossíveis&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
diga que metamorfoseio&lt;br /&gt;
palavras&lt;br /&gt;
para alimentar-me&lt;br /&gt;
do humano&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
em mim&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
diga, diga às gentes&lt;br /&gt;
que amanhã serei eu&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
que voltem a bater&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Curiosa)&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdNeiA1AhZXAVBkIy4JKbCxCrbNNJO5S1STzMU9QTPaPRVo63MwJyaC5CxWUVRTm2A9H57mlLbAqzMv_07mJg7UVcMsuXm-J11_sS__FA6X_JAZZVyDhOcH2ocPRlWvsOa9qYUVlGzvs/s72-c/human.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente ... está aniversariando ...</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2014/06/porque-escrevente-esta-de-aniversario.html</link><category>a Escrevente</category><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Wed, 11 Jun 2014 10:34:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-4089174927275037164</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;ANIVERSÁRIO &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;as mais novas que me perdoem&lt;br /&gt;
mas a idade é fundamental&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span class="userContent"&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente procura jutificativas para se manter viva</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2014/05/porque-escrevente-procura-jutificativas.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Sat, 17 May 2014 23:50:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-6370955872547346219</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
JUSTIFICATIVA DE CONTINUIDADE DE EXISTÊNCIA NESTE MUNDO INJUSTO ou POR QUE NÃO ME SUICIDEI AINDA ou DA HUMANIDADE&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
existo para contradizer o que vivo&lt;br /&gt;
poeto para testificar o que sinto&lt;br /&gt;
partilho para perseverar no que somos&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQAYOtYLc_ltcg8nMvB74RDQrQ8ltuUb0CJJiFlpndLJc0bnCbhNDMFGaOdIBAF6raLN7fWCk2ANMzVNqUizQNT3bHHN-iia-GM9xVZaNdbFcPBYESZDhFBVM4N3rTJG9XvBDqnI7d8s5/s1600/14--robert-shana-parkeharrison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQAYOtYLc_ltcg8nMvB74RDQrQ8ltuUb0CJJiFlpndLJc0bnCbhNDMFGaOdIBAF6raLN7fWCk2ANMzVNqUizQNT3bHHN-iia-GM9xVZaNdbFcPBYESZDhFBVM4N3rTJG9XvBDqnI7d8s5/s1600/14--robert-shana-parkeharrison.jpg" height="340" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQAYOtYLc_ltcg8nMvB74RDQrQ8ltuUb0CJJiFlpndLJc0bnCbhNDMFGaOdIBAF6raLN7fWCk2ANMzVNqUizQNT3bHHN-iia-GM9xVZaNdbFcPBYESZDhFBVM4N3rTJG9XvBDqnI7d8s5/s72-c/14--robert-shana-parkeharrison.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente ... pensa na Morte ....</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2014/05/porque-escrevente-pensa-na-morte.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Mon, 12 May 2014 23:46:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-2330264791491796441</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
AUTO-EPITÁFIO&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
sangrava todos os meses&lt;br /&gt;
por isso lhe sabiam mulher&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
escrevia vez em quando&lt;br /&gt;
por isso lhe sabiam viva&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlh2dxuRhP8O56XZwcvgmpd2zwsHGF5d0dvt3NbX3Q8cbK_xTVc3Pv0ULZoAY6P6jvqPUH8pehsWmHYXvC4xY8DXRKEXQuJIpr_ctPd5CYREHT7LUNyqynw8nAzLg6MpmBVo5CpbWEZVs/s1600/dama+da+noite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlh2dxuRhP8O56XZwcvgmpd2zwsHGF5d0dvt3NbX3Q8cbK_xTVc3Pv0ULZoAY6P6jvqPUH8pehsWmHYXvC4xY8DXRKEXQuJIpr_ctPd5CYREHT7LUNyqynw8nAzLg6MpmBVo5CpbWEZVs/s1600/dama+da+noite.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIlh2dxuRhP8O56XZwcvgmpd2zwsHGF5d0dvt3NbX3Q8cbK_xTVc3Pv0ULZoAY6P6jvqPUH8pehsWmHYXvC4xY8DXRKEXQuJIpr_ctPd5CYREHT7LUNyqynw8nAzLg6MpmBVo5CpbWEZVs/s72-c/dama+da+noite.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente não se reconhece em nenhuma de si</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2014/05/auto-epicedio-ou-do-humano-ou.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Fri, 9 May 2014 23:43:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-8513974694430086146</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
AUTO-EPICÉDIO ou DO HUMANO ou TRANSTORNO DISSOCIATIVO ou ...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
crescera com uma ausência&lt;br /&gt;
uma falta uma sede uma aflição&lt;br /&gt;
como se lhe rareasse o ar a cada instante:&lt;br /&gt;
o mundo carecia de algo!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
procurara em todos os olhos&lt;br /&gt;
em todos os abraços em todas as palavras&lt;br /&gt;
e nada&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
seguia&lt;br /&gt;
acossada inquieta encolhida&lt;br /&gt;
dissociada da matéria que carregava&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
vivia&lt;br /&gt;
vivia e procurava&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
uma lembrança&lt;br /&gt;
uma só lembrança que a lembrasse quem era&lt;br /&gt;
antes de ser o que fosse&lt;br /&gt;
antes de ser o que era&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;antes de ser o que estava&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUWT7dcsvB1IHSVc6XvFZZ4pBwwbpOLgxvT0JheJkM2tCsLOC1Tn6lTfhm1xz3-FyqSl28Iaq_WtKsMxt6g1qs4vwrGirCw2o-qObGekYWnQjNqzId8i4YNFM8hp3WdUh1vshRO2Exb5B/s1600/Francesca-Woodman.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUWT7dcsvB1IHSVc6XvFZZ4pBwwbpOLgxvT0JheJkM2tCsLOC1Tn6lTfhm1xz3-FyqSl28Iaq_WtKsMxt6g1qs4vwrGirCw2o-qObGekYWnQjNqzId8i4YNFM8hp3WdUh1vshRO2Exb5B/s1600/Francesca-Woodman.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUWT7dcsvB1IHSVc6XvFZZ4pBwwbpOLgxvT0JheJkM2tCsLOC1Tn6lTfhm1xz3-FyqSl28Iaq_WtKsMxt6g1qs4vwrGirCw2o-qObGekYWnQjNqzId8i4YNFM8hp3WdUh1vshRO2Exb5B/s72-c/Francesca-Woodman.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente é um projeto inacabado</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/12/porque-escrevente-e-um-projeto-inacabado.html</link><category>Poemetos</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Sat, 21 Dec 2013 09:20:00 -0200</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-8374934579523564649</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0nDUH3a3c7b-yoWs3KMpmQE4eGJycr05MAKjK7Gs_LxdLSdvpUzz3qGHVJKbSbhay-mAg9fg_xt1tQQBgLWItthShh5S3FVrlJBfLd9Zw1BTwurPmMKjVuX-wC58uPRxGG9rTYTZQNPZ/s1600/ingrid-endel-1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0nDUH3a3c7b-yoWs3KMpmQE4eGJycr05MAKjK7Gs_LxdLSdvpUzz3qGHVJKbSbhay-mAg9fg_xt1tQQBgLWItthShh5S3FVrlJBfLd9Zw1BTwurPmMKjVuX-wC58uPRxGG9rTYTZQNPZ/w200-h200/ingrid-endel-1.jpeg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;ingrid endel&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
DEVIR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;se eu morresse hoje&lt;br /&gt;a morta ainda não seria eu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa"&gt;Curiosa da Vida&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT0nDUH3a3c7b-yoWs3KMpmQE4eGJycr05MAKjK7Gs_LxdLSdvpUzz3qGHVJKbSbhay-mAg9fg_xt1tQQBgLWItthShh5S3FVrlJBfLd9Zw1BTwurPmMKjVuX-wC58uPRxGG9rTYTZQNPZ/s72-w200-h200-c/ingrid-endel-1.jpeg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente não esquece de lembrar da Morte</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/12/porque-escrevente-nao-esquece-de.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Wed, 18 Dec 2013 09:11:00 -0200</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-7349079849118783696</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
SE EU MORRESSE HOJE ou DAS FUTILIDADES HUMANAS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a gaveta do escritório desorganizada&lt;br /&gt;minha unha ainda encravada&lt;br /&gt;um presunto vencido na geladeira&lt;br /&gt;a blusa preferida: na costureira&lt;br /&gt;- com que roupa seria enterrada?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa"&gt;Curiosa da Vida&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbAsyLfUllxAz54OHBjy91RtXLlD56kzfn7SkRy1m85TDyugk0wTELOuZOHiMwopIi2Fob6QonJbrna9Njj7fbvnlUIf95du7CZZrhocscRvj-tRzjwdFi8R1Y8PhYHy7xCDBQjD6Y1Fn/s1600/se+rosto.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbAsyLfUllxAz54OHBjy91RtXLlD56kzfn7SkRy1m85TDyugk0wTELOuZOHiMwopIi2Fob6QonJbrna9Njj7fbvnlUIf95du7CZZrhocscRvj-tRzjwdFi8R1Y8PhYHy7xCDBQjD6Y1Fn/w200-h200/se+rosto.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbAsyLfUllxAz54OHBjy91RtXLlD56kzfn7SkRy1m85TDyugk0wTELOuZOHiMwopIi2Fob6QonJbrna9Njj7fbvnlUIf95du7CZZrhocscRvj-tRzjwdFi8R1Y8PhYHy7xCDBQjD6Y1Fn/s72-w200-h200-c/se+rosto.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente precisa desabrochar</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/11/porque-escrevente-precisa-de-terra.html</link><category>Poemetos</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Thu, 21 Nov 2013 10:52:00 -0200</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-8830568783760292765</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
CRIAR RAÍZES&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
plantou-se diante de si mesma&lt;br /&gt;
e cresceu &amp;nbsp;em verde-esperança&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa?directed_target_id=0"&gt;Curiosa da Vida&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTzbgy4113DJ4CUnSgsGOeZ2yCrgg3-qgJUWMa1tmztLGy-_wNL4ltHIlWGxPt86fv5OaxiEeZn6PLOSMCksU5lZAxg7L5J906vgrrD4-OLjIiDlwbs_8BCiSsvG4duLiVzJp8YafC7du/s1600/mulher+%C3%A1rvore.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTzbgy4113DJ4CUnSgsGOeZ2yCrgg3-qgJUWMa1tmztLGy-_wNL4ltHIlWGxPt86fv5OaxiEeZn6PLOSMCksU5lZAxg7L5J906vgrrD4-OLjIiDlwbs_8BCiSsvG4duLiVzJp8YafC7du/w133-h200/mulher+%C3%A1rvore.jpg" width="133" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span face="lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="color: #3b5998; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=100003208744078&amp;amp;extragetparams=%7B%22directed_target_id%22%3A0%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa?directed_target_id=0" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: &amp;quot;lucida grande&amp;quot;, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDTzbgy4113DJ4CUnSgsGOeZ2yCrgg3-qgJUWMa1tmztLGy-_wNL4ltHIlWGxPt86fv5OaxiEeZn6PLOSMCksU5lZAxg7L5J906vgrrD4-OLjIiDlwbs_8BCiSsvG4duLiVzJp8YafC7du/s72-w133-h200-c/mulher+%C3%A1rvore.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Primavera ilumina a poeta</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/09/porque-primavera-ilumina-poeta.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Mon, 23 Sep 2013 00:20:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-253919967888360796</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
EQUINÓCIO da PRIMAVERA &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; dia e noite do mesmo tamanho&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sua sombra do tamanho dela mesma&lt;br /&gt;sua fome do tamanho da sua morte&lt;br /&gt;sua vida do tamanho do seu nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; mas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;a cada dia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;o dia maior que a noite&lt;br /&gt;a luz maior que a sombra&lt;br /&gt;a fome maior que a vida&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ela mesma&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;maior que a morte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; desabrocha a poeta &lt;br /&gt;do tamanho da Primavera&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span face="lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="color: #37404e; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 17.9818px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span face="lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="color: #37404e; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 17.9818px;"&gt;(&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa"&gt;Curiosa da Vida&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span face="lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="color: #37404e; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 17.9818px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span face="lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="color: #37404e; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 17.9818px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWhflsnEfp7vrjW-9De-2rkdFhoCXL4RCGynGPZnEe0BChBWf9B_Iok24cHZClBvObBPWg_rnyAsYR9B9KDdRaUDEeOh8qnLY8owLqgCmFEfIeyJ78-eT2MptYRqFryhLgC86xyQmW7_8/s1600/primavera.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWhflsnEfp7vrjW-9De-2rkdFhoCXL4RCGynGPZnEe0BChBWf9B_Iok24cHZClBvObBPWg_rnyAsYR9B9KDdRaUDEeOh8qnLY8owLqgCmFEfIeyJ78-eT2MptYRqFryhLgC86xyQmW7_8/s1600/primavera.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWhflsnEfp7vrjW-9De-2rkdFhoCXL4RCGynGPZnEe0BChBWf9B_Iok24cHZClBvObBPWg_rnyAsYR9B9KDdRaUDEeOh8qnLY8owLqgCmFEfIeyJ78-eT2MptYRqFryhLgC86xyQmW7_8/s72-c/primavera.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente se sente avelhentada</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/09/porque-escrevente-se-sente-avelhentada.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa)</author><pubDate>Tue, 3 Sep 2013 14:52:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-867163293067124706</guid><description>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtFDV-fQRiuS6JUy0n4LzcOXfu5S2j8SxAtHEhan5xh0uGAniNswI_I4gIjgMR7emypj3OIx3K73PeuML7s0OADy4mp6lXOsLBS3SHdZ0347ngiNF6Ayv00IQ2pgSDS57V5eHBxLk0ro/s1600/velhice.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtFDV-fQRiuS6JUy0n4LzcOXfu5S2j8SxAtHEhan5xh0uGAniNswI_I4gIjgMR7emypj3OIx3K73PeuML7s0OADy4mp6lXOsLBS3SHdZ0347ngiNF6Ayv00IQ2pgSDS57V5eHBxLk0ro/w156-h200/velhice.jpg" width="156" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AVELHENTADA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a garotinha perdida&lt;br /&gt;já velhinha - encontrou-se:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;esteve presa em fotografias antigas&lt;br /&gt;de momentos esquecidos da infância&lt;br /&gt;quando seus olhos ainda sabiam ver&lt;br /&gt;a magia do tempo à sua frente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eram tantas as possibilidades de existência&lt;br /&gt;(da sua existência!)&lt;br /&gt;que o mundo se reencaixava &lt;br /&gt;a cada novo pensamento seu&lt;br /&gt;recriando-se&lt;br /&gt;quadro a quadro&lt;br /&gt;como a reprodução de um filme em câmera lenta:&lt;br /&gt;o filme de sua vida&lt;br /&gt;(de suas possíveis vidas)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;um filme - que hoje sabe&lt;br /&gt;fixo em uma cena só&lt;br /&gt;descorado pelo tempo&lt;br /&gt;terá o final de todos os filmes&lt;br /&gt;- virar pó&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Curiosa.daCuriosa?directed_target_id=0"&gt;Curiosa da Vida&lt;/a&gt;)</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxtFDV-fQRiuS6JUy0n4LzcOXfu5S2j8SxAtHEhan5xh0uGAniNswI_I4gIjgMR7emypj3OIx3K73PeuML7s0OADy4mp6lXOsLBS3SHdZ0347ngiNF6Ayv00IQ2pgSDS57V5eHBxLk0ro/s72-w156-h200-c/velhice.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente pensa na Morte - diariamente</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/04/porque-escrevente-sente-vontade-de.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Fri, 26 Apr 2013 23:31:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-3281654650349479402</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
DONA MORTE&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
quase tudo&lt;br /&gt;
já foi dito&lt;br /&gt;
do momento de sua visita&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
mas&lt;br /&gt;
não me contaram&lt;br /&gt;
que viria todos os dias&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
e que a cada vez&lt;br /&gt;
a decisão seria minha&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Curiosa)&lt;br /&gt;
..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
* (e que seria&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;sempre único o instante)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(*palavras de meu amigo Assis Freitas, que arrematou o poema com majestade)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisihDenRg8SYKrWJ3_0qisH0vnQeKkEx70r5g8sP_NLPDbeFMLQXzKlbrqONAjLDcMnnz8uFiciZEje-_bR0Si8Sx0fmQfDV1p9vgEoE-de_pSBdnSyHWQwRLKbL9pPeRT54WrqUeXTeqS/s1600/moete2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisihDenRg8SYKrWJ3_0qisH0vnQeKkEx70r5g8sP_NLPDbeFMLQXzKlbrqONAjLDcMnnz8uFiciZEje-_bR0Si8Sx0fmQfDV1p9vgEoE-de_pSBdnSyHWQwRLKbL9pPeRT54WrqUeXTeqS/s1600/moete2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisihDenRg8SYKrWJ3_0qisH0vnQeKkEx70r5g8sP_NLPDbeFMLQXzKlbrqONAjLDcMnnz8uFiciZEje-_bR0Si8Sx0fmQfDV1p9vgEoE-de_pSBdnSyHWQwRLKbL9pPeRT54WrqUeXTeqS/s72-c/moete2.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente há de lembrar de esquecer</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/04/porque-escrevente-ha-de-lembrar-de.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Sun, 7 Apr 2013 21:31:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-609500818398281594</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
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&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;
SOBRE UM AMOR PLATÔNICO II&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
de repente&lt;br /&gt;
na multidão&lt;br /&gt;
uma voz&lt;br /&gt;
!&lt;br /&gt;
!&lt;br /&gt;
¨&lt;br /&gt;
não é&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(...)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
a cada dia&lt;br /&gt;
esqueço teus olhos&lt;br /&gt;
esqueço teu cheiro&lt;br /&gt;
esqueço teu jeito&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
te esqueço&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
mas tua voz&lt;br /&gt;
reverbera&lt;br /&gt;
(ainda)&lt;br /&gt;
em meu ventre&lt;br /&gt;
(autônoma!)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
sobe-me&lt;br /&gt;
e desce&lt;br /&gt;
a kundalini&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
goza-me&lt;br /&gt;
(louca!)&lt;br /&gt;
teu riso&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
que não ouço&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
teu riso&lt;br /&gt;
que esqueci&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Curiosa)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente precisa de palavras para fazer amor</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/03/porque-escrevente-precisa-de-palavras.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Wed, 6 Mar 2013 11:28:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-4618927193618366385</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
AO PRÓXIMO AMOR: INFORMAÇÕES BÁSICAS&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
cada gozo&lt;br /&gt;
me requer&amp;nbsp;horas&lt;br /&gt;
de pele a pele&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
nesse tempo&lt;br /&gt;
as palavras me seduzirão&lt;br /&gt;
mais que o toque&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
não, não fiques em silêncio&lt;br /&gt;
(senão em poucos dias especiais)&lt;br /&gt;
pois cada palavra certeira&lt;br /&gt;
me molha ao êxtase&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
e do clímax&lt;br /&gt;
também&lt;br /&gt;
me trará de volta a tua voz&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
as palavras&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
dentro do tempo&lt;br /&gt;
definirão o tempo&lt;br /&gt;
de minha pequena morte&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
(e definirão se ela existirá)&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
então&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
meu próximo amor&lt;br /&gt;
tuas palavras&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
serão o nosso tempo&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Curiosa)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiquZFORvJ1P2bLE8yk-eXr28rcyN3k70Uvs84EUg50a7dD4SiyuLtpqZizxnq5LdgKoDSbS_R7SiCUWXg_1goiyWNgj2rbq6FC3PsJpqgthljWWUEjC-K_gSZR0JtmYGO-YAT812GMZ2d7/s1600/maos.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiquZFORvJ1P2bLE8yk-eXr28rcyN3k70Uvs84EUg50a7dD4SiyuLtpqZizxnq5LdgKoDSbS_R7SiCUWXg_1goiyWNgj2rbq6FC3PsJpqgthljWWUEjC-K_gSZR0JtmYGO-YAT812GMZ2d7/s320/maos.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiquZFORvJ1P2bLE8yk-eXr28rcyN3k70Uvs84EUg50a7dD4SiyuLtpqZizxnq5LdgKoDSbS_R7SiCUWXg_1goiyWNgj2rbq6FC3PsJpqgthljWWUEjC-K_gSZR0JtmYGO-YAT812GMZ2d7/s72-c/maos.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">14</thr:total></item><item><title>crossdresser</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2011/04/minha-cdzinha.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Sat, 23 Feb 2013 16:17:00 -0300</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-7261498413901839763</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
CROSSDRESSER&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
tem nuances&lt;br /&gt;
de rosa &lt;br /&gt;
na alma&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
umidade feminina&lt;br /&gt;
nas entranhas&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
poderes uterinos&lt;br /&gt;
no pênis&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
sabor de poesia&lt;br /&gt;
no olhar&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
(Curiosa) &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total></item><item><title>porque a Escrevente volta a entrever o Poema</title><link>https://asintimidadesdacuriosa.blogspot.com/2013/02/porque-escrevente-volta-entrever-o-poema.html</link><category>poeticando</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Curiosa da Vida)</author><pubDate>Mon, 11 Feb 2013 23:01:00 -0200</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1773393347119060471.post-7261965154625640605</guid><description>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
METAPOÉTICA&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
o poema&lt;br /&gt;
existe por si só&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
vez que outra&lt;br /&gt;
conseguimos decifrá-lo&lt;br /&gt;
decodificando-o em palavras&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
o poema&lt;br /&gt;
é como olhar a luz de uma estrela:&lt;br /&gt;
quando findamos o escrever&lt;br /&gt;
ele já não está mais lá&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Curiosa)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div align="LEFT" class="western" style="border: none; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJonDHWwvZ58FOK0L5zn5L4jbmHkz7Fq0ncBfEc3h4hRCvu-3ni29mQ3L050DoQcShISP4wlkYK-O0qKO8_jc6WhnUMkG_2OWKROnWxynJPcmIVY8CjUgxh0YfJtgYDbLqEfCtd6daGJ82/s1600/devir1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJonDHWwvZ58FOK0L5zn5L4jbmHkz7Fq0ncBfEc3h4hRCvu-3ni29mQ3L050DoQcShISP4wlkYK-O0qKO8_jc6WhnUMkG_2OWKROnWxynJPcmIVY8CjUgxh0YfJtgYDbLqEfCtd6daGJ82/s400/devir1.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="LEFT" class="western" style="border: none; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="LEFT" class="western" style="border: none; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="LEFT" class="western" style="border: none; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJonDHWwvZ58FOK0L5zn5L4jbmHkz7Fq0ncBfEc3h4hRCvu-3ni29mQ3L050DoQcShISP4wlkYK-O0qKO8_jc6WhnUMkG_2OWKROnWxynJPcmIVY8CjUgxh0YfJtgYDbLqEfCtd6daGJ82/s72-c/devir1.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total></item></channel></rss>