Tr Peres Phyllis
Biographic Data
| ID | 2897383 |
|---|---|
| NAME | Tr Peres Phyllis |
| GIVEN NAMES | Tr Peres |
| FAMILY NAME | Phyllis |
| SIGNATURE | PHYLLIS T P |
| VERIFIED | No |
| TOTAL WORKS | 23 |
| TOTAL CITATIONS | 2 |
| AUTHOR COUNT | 23 |
| EDITOR COUNT | 0 |
| FIRST PUBLICATION YEAR | 1995 |
| LATEST PUBLICATION YEAR | 1995 |
| H-INDEX | 1 |
Morning, Protect Me: A Monologue in One Act
Morning, Protect MeA Monologue in One Act Cuti (Luiz Silva) (bio) Character CELSO, Black man, between 30 and 40 years old, dressed in a suit and tie. Scene A street in a well-to-do neighborhood. A tall wall with bars. It is early morning. CELSO (offstage) Don’t worry, man. . . . I’ll catch a cab. . . . Go to sleep. . . . No, I’m not drunk, shit . . . So long. . . . See you Monday. . . . Take it easy, you’re the one who drank too much. . . . That’…
Carnival
Carnival Paulo Colina (bio) Our mouths sewn, stitch by stitch, with thin transparent baitline thread a slime of spittle, spectacle, an allure. Shallow hooded figures pale from a fear understood but never explained, a parade, singing that samba has no color. And we brag of our freedom in samba songs, while, at our side, all the trembling shadows of all our generations fight to revive, in our distracted memory, the always open wound of our daily As…
Ejo-lorun
Ejo-lorun Ricardo Aleixo (bio) everything in her (the serpent over there, from the place of master didi) was from other eras the slow turn- ing around in the stratum of redman and blackman and straw and iron and the whiteman and cowries the glance far NEAR infinite her slippery singing with no syllables Ejo-Lorun Ricardo Aleixo (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazirani, and Chi Lam tudo nela (a serpente do além de mestre didi) era de ou…
Life in Debt
Life in Debt Cuti (Luiz Silva) (bio) “You’re going to die boy!” “I didn’t do nothing to you. Just paying for my cigarettes.” “With the money you stole from me yesterday, you asshole! You think I don’t know?” “It wasn’t me.” “So, you’re telling me it was my mother? When I left to check out the fire in Rosane’s house, you were there on the corner, right?” “I didn’t steal nothing.” “It’s already the second time that you hit me, boy! I’m gonna get yo…
Ouro Preto: Interpretation Itinerary
Ouro Preto Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Upon contemplating the baroque of the churches and the glare of the gold, the visitor looking does not merge the building with the past: small hills so dark: and does not grasp the silence of a totem never seen. The baroque is not the depletion of the gold but the right of the raped body. Ouro Preto: interpretation itinerary Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazir…
The Son of Oxala Who Was Named Money
The Son of Oxalá Who was Named Money Mestre Didi Many years ago, Oxalá had a son by the name of Money, who was very presumptuous and arrogant, to the point of saying to Oxalá, his father and king, in front of many people, that he was as powerful as his father, since he was accustomed to walking with Death and could take her anywhere. To prove this claim, one day he planned to bring Death however he could, as he had told Oxalá he could in the pres…
Marina and the Word, Another Name
A Ritual Choreography: The Orishas' Steps in Sortilegio
A Ritual Choreography The Orishas’ Steps In Sortilégio Leda Martins (bio) Until the early part of the twentieth century, the black presence in conventional theater projected a limited situation—that of invisibility. This was evident not only in the absence of black characters, but also by the distorted images of blacks that were elaborated by white imagination. The representational models that engendered and elaborated these images had their basi…
August
August Paulo Colina (bio) exactly at this hour the children hidden at the foot of the closed door of the National Bank between beds of boxes broken of cardboard and rags of sleep and dreams which we stumble on everyday in the morning when we pass by Rio Branco Avenue in accelerated commercial cadence under the command of time cards already they are old from the streets with their protruding bellies shining shoes of patent leather windshield wiper…
Great Mother
Great Mother Ricardo Aleixo (bio) all the waters of the world are Hers. they flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees it all. sees it again. all the waters of the world are Hers. flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees everything. sees everything again. all the waters of the world are Hers. flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees it all. sees it again. MamÃe Grande Ricardo Aleixo (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazirani, and Chi Lam todas as águ…
Daily
Daily José Carlos Limeira (bio) For me the mirror is enough the blue pants the paper, the pencil and this courage to leave every morning meet the same people the same surprises the time card the telephone the documents. For me it is enough this stubborn courage of gulping coffee at nine of smoking the fifth cigarette with the same determination to destroy what remains of the lungs. It is really enough for me this almost suicidal courage of liftin…
In the Style of Alvaro de Campos
In the Style of Álvaro de Campos Paulo Colina (bio) obviously the earth is round galileo galilei didn’t know about blinders while we searched for our flesh throughout the ships’ holds or in pathless cemeteries the world also was a ball in the playing fields of the 1970s blood earth and grass the principle of humanity (that’s what I read one day in the paper) a soccer shoe a number ten jersey and magic with a ball they can dribble away whatever hu…
Types of Life
Types of Life Jônatas Conceição da Silva The first letters of the alphabet were taught me by my patrão.* Typographically . . . The upper and lower cases relayed nothing relevant of our life. In the twilight of my house Brooding I learned to compose life with various types. That alphabet was bitter and hard but its apprenticeship taught me about love and hate bread and boss. Everything typographically. . . . Tipos de Vida Jônatas Conceição da Silv…
Much to the Sea
Much to the Sea José Carlos Limeira (bio) for a black woman Like a navigator I uncovered the course of your body house and port where I dare stay without moorings or anything else calm dock, grotto of hidden fish, sweet wharf but when I, black pirate, launch in the waters of your pleasures I am bold lose maps, lighthouse eyes flash from which I navigate novembers, augusts miles, us lost and more lost like a compass, only desires and I suck you in…
This Is For You
This Is For You Éle Semog (bio) You who Still trade on the street, blow bad dope To get the courage To rail against the government; You still close deals in the city and You size up people By how black they act; You still close deals and You keep flattering the countryside, And the people of the countryside, The peasants—the country, the open fields, From within the four walls Of your private condo, With your magnificent courtesies That your fath…
Survey of African-Brazilian Literature
Survey of African-Brazilian Literature * Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) In this survey of African-Brazilian Literature I will focus on authors and texts from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as well as from the first half of the twentieth. Initially, I will outline some of the major issues arising from critical considerations of these texts. Existing criticism of that literature has been marked by the limitations of what I will call a …
Foreboding
Foreboding Paulo Colina (bio) May, thirteenth, eighteen hundred and eighty-eight, sounds to me like a cosmic whisper. The night shaken by sirens startles me Turning my pockets inside out searching for the pass that permits me, São Paulo, to cross streets in peace. The Princess forgot to sign our work permits. I suspect, indeed, that a living Palmares is necessary. Pressentimento Paulo Colina (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres and Jane Kamide Maio,…
Morning Prayer
Morning Prayer Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) for Núbia Pereira The day does not know your name and it could not. Many shrieks of rain still slumber in the trees. Whoever saw the sun can’t see the laughter of Zambi. Only the old ones look but they don’t speak or if they speak it’s in the language of silence. come mistress come mistress let’s make miracle The day is a burning night and Zambi is the mystery. ah mistress, ah mistress, The day do…
Induca, Maria do Rosario
Induca, Maria do Rosário Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Induca, where has life gone? The boy slips through the wall and disappears in the darkness of the room. Induca, I came late your eyes waited for me. Another boy slips through the wall with sugared wafers in his hand. Hey, Induca, where has life gone? I hope night falls patiently, I hope. You comment on the fear with a proverb. Induca, the boys slip back through the wall. The night belong…
I Am
I Am Oliveira Silveira (bio) I am the word the puddle for the thirst of the whole world and I have in my soul clear water and sky in the background. I already was an oar, I was the hoe and the brick; the railroad track, fieldwork, seed, grain. I already was the oppressive word, today I am the word enough. And this day I am going to reject the boss trampling such a thought. My song is the salty blade that turns against the foreman, saying that my …
Story of the Woman Whose Daughter Made Palm Oil
Story of the Woman Whose Daughter Made Palm Oil Mestre Didi One day, after the girl had already finished preparing her oil and had straightened out everything at home, she went to the market, where she stayed until it grew dark. When night arrived, a Fairy [Ararun, espirito] appeared, bought oil and paid with some cowries [shells from the coast]. The girl counted the cowries, found one that was broken, and asked the Fairy to exchange it for a per…
Ogun
Ogun Esmeralda Ribeiro (bio) The black woman Mariana Cesário was born on November 20, 1964, on a street called Resistance. Her birth took place at home assisted by the midwife Dona Francisca, a woman of around seventy, who had such ability and experience in catching babies that no one ever forgot her. After Mariana arrived in the world, her parents separated. This was a separation that had been coming for a long time, due to the constant fights a…
Hallucinations
Hallucinations Éle Semog (bio) A black man fell at the corner and two black men picked him up the three of them went away and I joined them from behind. A lame ox drank the sea the world remained empty like a heart before estrus Four black men rolled down the hill Eight black men also rolled down they were twelve Holy blacks No! twelve bloody black men at dawn that waited for twelve hours for the hearse to pass by. A crazy crab attacked the wrong…
A Ritual Choreography: The Orishas' Steps in Sortilegio
A Ritual Choreography The Orishas’ Steps In Sortilégio Leda Martins (bio) Until the early part of the twentieth century, the black presence in conventional theater projected a limited situation—that of invisibility. This was evident not only in the absence of black characters, but also by the distorted images of blacks that were elaborated by white imagination. The representational models that engendered and elaborated these images had their basi…
August
August Paulo Colina (bio) exactly at this hour the children hidden at the foot of the closed door of the National Bank between beds of boxes broken of cardboard and rags of sleep and dreams which we stumble on everyday in the morning when we pass by Rio Branco Avenue in accelerated commercial cadence under the command of time cards already they are old from the streets with their protruding bellies shining shoes of patent leather windshield wiper…
Morning, Protect Me: A Monologue in One Act
Morning, Protect MeA Monologue in One Act Cuti (Luiz Silva) (bio) Character CELSO, Black man, between 30 and 40 years old, dressed in a suit and tie. Scene A street in a well-to-do neighborhood. A tall wall with bars. It is early morning. CELSO (offstage) Don’t worry, man. . . . I’ll catch a cab. . . . Go to sleep. . . . No, I’m not drunk, shit . . . So long. . . . See you Monday. . . . Take it easy, you’re the one who drank too much. . . . That’…
Carnival
Carnival Paulo Colina (bio) Our mouths sewn, stitch by stitch, with thin transparent baitline thread a slime of spittle, spectacle, an allure. Shallow hooded figures pale from a fear understood but never explained, a parade, singing that samba has no color. And we brag of our freedom in samba songs, while, at our side, all the trembling shadows of all our generations fight to revive, in our distracted memory, the always open wound of our daily As…
Ejo-lorun
Ejo-lorun Ricardo Aleixo (bio) everything in her (the serpent over there, from the place of master didi) was from other eras the slow turn- ing around in the stratum of redman and blackman and straw and iron and the whiteman and cowries the glance far NEAR infinite her slippery singing with no syllables Ejo-Lorun Ricardo Aleixo (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazirani, and Chi Lam tudo nela (a serpente do além de mestre didi) era de ou…
Life in Debt
Life in Debt Cuti (Luiz Silva) (bio) “You’re going to die boy!” “I didn’t do nothing to you. Just paying for my cigarettes.” “With the money you stole from me yesterday, you asshole! You think I don’t know?” “It wasn’t me.” “So, you’re telling me it was my mother? When I left to check out the fire in Rosane’s house, you were there on the corner, right?” “I didn’t steal nothing.” “It’s already the second time that you hit me, boy! I’m gonna get yo…
Ouro Preto: Interpretation Itinerary
Ouro Preto Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Upon contemplating the baroque of the churches and the glare of the gold, the visitor looking does not merge the building with the past: small hills so dark: and does not grasp the silence of a totem never seen. The baroque is not the depletion of the gold but the right of the raped body. Ouro Preto: interpretation itinerary Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazir…
The Son of Oxala Who Was Named Money
The Son of Oxalá Who was Named Money Mestre Didi Many years ago, Oxalá had a son by the name of Money, who was very presumptuous and arrogant, to the point of saying to Oxalá, his father and king, in front of many people, that he was as powerful as his father, since he was accustomed to walking with Death and could take her anywhere. To prove this claim, one day he planned to bring Death however he could, as he had told Oxalá he could in the pres…
Marina and the Word, Another Name
A Ritual Choreography: The Orishas' Steps in Sortilegio
A Ritual Choreography The Orishas’ Steps In Sortilégio Leda Martins (bio) Until the early part of the twentieth century, the black presence in conventional theater projected a limited situation—that of invisibility. This was evident not only in the absence of black characters, but also by the distorted images of blacks that were elaborated by white imagination. The representational models that engendered and elaborated these images had their basi…
August
August Paulo Colina (bio) exactly at this hour the children hidden at the foot of the closed door of the National Bank between beds of boxes broken of cardboard and rags of sleep and dreams which we stumble on everyday in the morning when we pass by Rio Branco Avenue in accelerated commercial cadence under the command of time cards already they are old from the streets with their protruding bellies shining shoes of patent leather windshield wiper…
Great Mother
Great Mother Ricardo Aleixo (bio) all the waters of the world are Hers. they flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees it all. sees it again. all the waters of the world are Hers. flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees everything. sees everything again. all the waters of the world are Hers. flow reflow in Her rhythms. She sees it all. sees it again. MamÃe Grande Ricardo Aleixo (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres, Reetika Vazirani, and Chi Lam todas as águ…
Daily
Daily José Carlos Limeira (bio) For me the mirror is enough the blue pants the paper, the pencil and this courage to leave every morning meet the same people the same surprises the time card the telephone the documents. For me it is enough this stubborn courage of gulping coffee at nine of smoking the fifth cigarette with the same determination to destroy what remains of the lungs. It is really enough for me this almost suicidal courage of liftin…
In the Style of Alvaro de Campos
In the Style of Álvaro de Campos Paulo Colina (bio) obviously the earth is round galileo galilei didn’t know about blinders while we searched for our flesh throughout the ships’ holds or in pathless cemeteries the world also was a ball in the playing fields of the 1970s blood earth and grass the principle of humanity (that’s what I read one day in the paper) a soccer shoe a number ten jersey and magic with a ball they can dribble away whatever hu…
Types of Life
Types of Life Jônatas Conceição da Silva The first letters of the alphabet were taught me by my patrão.* Typographically . . . The upper and lower cases relayed nothing relevant of our life. In the twilight of my house Brooding I learned to compose life with various types. That alphabet was bitter and hard but its apprenticeship taught me about love and hate bread and boss. Everything typographically. . . . Tipos de Vida Jônatas Conceição da Silv…
Much to the Sea
Much to the Sea José Carlos Limeira (bio) for a black woman Like a navigator I uncovered the course of your body house and port where I dare stay without moorings or anything else calm dock, grotto of hidden fish, sweet wharf but when I, black pirate, launch in the waters of your pleasures I am bold lose maps, lighthouse eyes flash from which I navigate novembers, augusts miles, us lost and more lost like a compass, only desires and I suck you in…
This Is For You
This Is For You Éle Semog (bio) You who Still trade on the street, blow bad dope To get the courage To rail against the government; You still close deals in the city and You size up people By how black they act; You still close deals and You keep flattering the countryside, And the people of the countryside, The peasants—the country, the open fields, From within the four walls Of your private condo, With your magnificent courtesies That your fath…
Survey of African-Brazilian Literature
Survey of African-Brazilian Literature * Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) In this survey of African-Brazilian Literature I will focus on authors and texts from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as well as from the first half of the twentieth. Initially, I will outline some of the major issues arising from critical considerations of these texts. Existing criticism of that literature has been marked by the limitations of what I will call a …
Foreboding
Foreboding Paulo Colina (bio) May, thirteenth, eighteen hundred and eighty-eight, sounds to me like a cosmic whisper. The night shaken by sirens startles me Turning my pockets inside out searching for the pass that permits me, São Paulo, to cross streets in peace. The Princess forgot to sign our work permits. I suspect, indeed, that a living Palmares is necessary. Pressentimento Paulo Colina (bio) Translated by Phyllis Peres and Jane Kamide Maio,…
Morning Prayer
Morning Prayer Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) for Núbia Pereira The day does not know your name and it could not. Many shrieks of rain still slumber in the trees. Whoever saw the sun can’t see the laughter of Zambi. Only the old ones look but they don’t speak or if they speak it’s in the language of silence. come mistress come mistress let’s make miracle The day is a burning night and Zambi is the mystery. ah mistress, ah mistress, The day do…
Induca, Maria do Rosario
Induca, Maria do Rosário Edimilson de Almeida Pereira (bio) Induca, where has life gone? The boy slips through the wall and disappears in the darkness of the room. Induca, I came late your eyes waited for me. Another boy slips through the wall with sugared wafers in his hand. Hey, Induca, where has life gone? I hope night falls patiently, I hope. You comment on the fear with a proverb. Induca, the boys slip back through the wall. The night belong…
I Am
I Am Oliveira Silveira (bio) I am the word the puddle for the thirst of the whole world and I have in my soul clear water and sky in the background. I already was an oar, I was the hoe and the brick; the railroad track, fieldwork, seed, grain. I already was the oppressive word, today I am the word enough. And this day I am going to reject the boss trampling such a thought. My song is the salty blade that turns against the foreman, saying that my …
Story of the Woman Whose Daughter Made Palm Oil
Story of the Woman Whose Daughter Made Palm Oil Mestre Didi One day, after the girl had already finished preparing her oil and had straightened out everything at home, she went to the market, where she stayed until it grew dark. When night arrived, a Fairy [Ararun, espirito] appeared, bought oil and paid with some cowries [shells from the coast]. The girl counted the cowries, found one that was broken, and asked the Fairy to exchange it for a per…
Ogun
Ogun Esmeralda Ribeiro (bio) The black woman Mariana Cesário was born on November 20, 1964, on a street called Resistance. Her birth took place at home assisted by the midwife Dona Francisca, a woman of around seventy, who had such ability and experience in catching babies that no one ever forgot her. After Mariana arrived in the world, her parents separated. This was a separation that had been coming for a long time, due to the constant fights a…
Hallucinations
Hallucinations Éle Semog (bio) A black man fell at the corner and two black men picked him up the three of them went away and I joined them from behind. A lame ox drank the sea the world remained empty like a heart before estrus Four black men rolled down the hill Eight black men also rolled down they were twelve Holy blacks No! twelve bloody black men at dawn that waited for twelve hours for the hearse to pass by. A crazy crab attacked the wrong…
Art (20 works) · Humanities (14 works) · Literature, Culture, and Criticism (12 works) · Art history (11 works) · History (9 works) · Philosophy (7 works) · Sociology (6 works) · Law (5 works) · Political science (5 works) · Literature (4 works)