Sunday, December 30, 2012

Charles Bukowski / Somebody

File:Charles Bukowski 916.JPG
Charles Bukowski,
Graffiti, Rue d'Alsace im 10, Arrondissement von Paris
by 
GFreihalter
SOMEBODY
by Charles Bukowski

god I got the sad blue blues,
this woman sat there and she
said
are you really Charles

Bukowski?

and I said

forget that

I do not feel good
I've got the sad sads
all I want to do is
fuck you
and she laughed
she thought I was being
clever
and O I just looked up her long slim legs of heaven
I saw her liver and her quivering intestine
I saw Christ in there
jumping to a folk-rock
all the long lines of starvation within me
rose
and I walked over
and grabbed her on the couch
ripped her dress up around her face
and I didn't care
rape or the end of the earth
one more time
to be there
anywhere
real
yes
her panties were on the 
floor
and my cock went in
my cock my god my cock went in
I was Charles 
Somebody.








Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Carl Sandburg / Fog


Fog 
by Carl Sandburg 
The fog comes
on little cat feet. 

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.


Read also
BIOGRAPHY OF CARL SANBURG

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Homero Aridjis / The ways to see and be an angel III

Angels Above Feathery White

The ways to see and be an angel III
by Homero Aridjis
English version by George McWhirter

An angel went by, people say
when a hush falls between us,
joined apparently into one body:
while these angels of ours take their rest,
examine themselves in the mirror
or gaze through the window
at the long yellow afternoon.

Homero Adrijis
MANERAS DE VER Y DE TENER ÁNGEL III

Pasó un ángel, dicen las gentes
cuando se hace el silencio en medio de nosotros,
en apariencia unidos en un cuerpo:
mientras nuestros ángeles descansan,
se observan en el espejo,
o miran por la ventana
la larga tarde amarilla.


Homero Adridjis
Tiempo de ángeles
A time of angels
México, Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2012, p. 23



Thursday, December 13, 2012

Matsuo Basho and others / Haikus


HAIKUS
Haiku 1
Miura Chora 

Get out of my road
and allow me to plant these
bamboos, Mr. Toad.

Haiku 2
Chiyo 

A morning glory
Twined round the bucket:
I will ask my neighbor
    for water.

Haiku 3
Matsuo Basho 

The old pond;
A frog jumps in:
Sound of water.

Haiku 4
Kobayashi Issa 
A dragonfly!
The distant hills
Reflected in his eyes.



Sunday, December 9, 2012

Martine Bellen / Two Poems


TWO POEMS
by Martine Bellen

Hey Diddle, Diddle

And the cat jumped over the Milk Moon, the Spoon Moon, the Sleepy
                             Mean Moon. Not the Flying Fish Moon. Or the Tiger Shark
            Moon. Moon of the Terrible. Moon of the Raccoon.

   Not the moon that swung atop the arboretum: the Peach Moon. Peony
Moon. The Moon When Trees Pop. The Lotus Moon, Mum Moon.
       Raspberry, Blackberry, or Sassafras Moon. It was the pelican that
                   perched on the Crane Moon.

The cat never jumped over the secret moon peeping out of swift, high cloud:
          The Bony Moon, the Windy Moon. The Hungry Moon. Moon of Ice.
                 Singing Moon, o Mulberry Moon
                                                     With a full-moon’s might.

The maroon-colored cat jumped over the magnificent Moon of Horses.
          The Moon When Geese Return in Scattered Formation. Moon When
the Calves Grow Hair. The Moon When Leaves Are Green. The Moon
                                When Leaves Are Gone.

          Never the dreaded Dragon Moon. The Panther Moon. The Moon When
                 Horns Are Broken Off. Never the Twelfth Moon when a million
                       brilliant eyes light dense bramble
                                                          Below that most hallowed one:
          The Moon When Eyes Are Sore From Staring at Bright Moon-Lit Snow.



Cat

The cat belongs to 
Me. The cat belongs 
To the house. The cat belongs to 
The other cat. The cat 
Belongs to itself. The cat 
Belongs to the forest. The 
Cat belongs to the bird and mouse. 
The cat belongs to the mountain lion. 
The cat belongs to no one. The cat 
Belongs to nothing. The cat belongs
To everyone, everything.

The cat has a name 
That I gave it. Everyone knows the cat’s name 
Is not its name. It is my name for the cat. 
Sometimes the cat refuses to acknowledge 
This name and sometimes the cat 
Plays along with the life I’ve created for the cat. 
Sometimes the cat pretends that it doesn’t live in a realm 
Different from the one that the cat and I 
Live in together. The cat has needs that must be met 
For the cat to live in my house, though most of the cat’s time 
Is spent elsewhere. I invite the cat to live with me 
So I can perceive some of the “elsewhere” 
In which the cat spends much cat time. 
The cat shares what I can’t see by maintaining 
An existence in my house and by responding to 
The name I gave the cat.

I know there will be a moment 
In the circuitry of space-time in which the cat will discard 
The name and forsake my house for good 
And will exist only in the fields 
I cannot see without the cat living in my house. On that day, 
I might say, “The cat has moved full-time into the wild.” 
Or I might say, “Miau-miau has run away.” 



The most recent books by Martine Bellen are GHOSTS! (Spuyten Duyvil) and2X2 (BlazeVOX). 



Wednesday, December 5, 2012

John Ashbery / How to Continue



How to Continue
by John Ashbery

Oh there once was a woman
and she kept a shop
selling trinkets to tourists
not far from a dock
who came to see what life could be
far back on the island.

And it was always a party there
always different but very nice
New friends to give you advice
or fall in love with you which is nice
and each grew so perfectly from the other
it was a marvel of poetry
and irony

And in this unsafe quarter
much was scary and dirty
but no one seemed to mind
very much
the parties went on from house to house
There were friends and lovers galore
all around the store
There was moonshine in winter
and starshine in summer
and everybody was happy to have discovered
what they discovered

And then one day the ship sailed away
There were no more dreamers just sleepers
in heavy attitudes on the dock
moving as if they knew how
among the trinkets and the souvenirs
the random shops of modern furniture
and a gale came and said
it is time to take all of you away
from the tops of the trees to the little houses
on little paths so startled

And when it became time to go
they none of them would leave without the other
for they said we are all one here
and if one of us goes the other will not go
and the wind whispered it to the stars
the people all got up to go
and looked back on love