I've thought about the matter a great deal, and I'm now convinced that one of the few things that could still save our literature, not to mention the deeper life of culture at large, would be evidence – preferably in the form of direct contact – that there is other sentient life in the universe….
(Trakl's last poem) At sundown the autumn woods resound With deadly weapons, the golden fields And blue lakes, the sun Moves on seriously; The night grasps Dying soldiers, the wild cries From their shattered mouths. Red clouds gather silently Over the meadows, sent by a wrathful god, Soaking up the lost blood, cool as the…
Don't torment your heart with the joys of earth, Don't cling to your wife or your home, Take the bread from your child To give to a stranger. And be the humblest servant of the one Who was your bitterest foe, And call the beast of the forest brother, And don't ask God for anything,…
1. LASER MAJESTY Light show at the Planetarium. Schlock music. Seven colors put through drum Majorette paces. “We saw God tonight,” Said Morgan, Yes, and She was chewing gum. 2. VOLTAIRE: ON A STATUE OF CHRIST IN JESUIT ATTIRE Admire these monks' excessive art And industry, who've dressed you, dear God! in their very robes…
trans. German Stuart Freibert I made myself some air every which way. It remained nicely invisible. No one saw me petting it. We went on living together. I felt great standing there finding what I sought in the air. I was partial to it because it was all around me. And it stood by me…
He whispers: “I won't even apologize For loving you so — Either be mine alone Or I will kill you.” It buzzes around me like a gadfly, Incessantly day after day, This same boring argument, Your black jealousy. Grief smothers — but not fatally, The wide wind dries my tears And cheerfulness begins to soothe,…
trans. Polish Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh The Politbureau, rumor has it, is totally controlled now by the doves. All they need is some muscle to put their liberal platform into action
These days lights come on earlier everywhere in the dark. But the time's too short to see you, that white of your eye. Love's like breath in the air at a mouth opened by astonishment. I feel your hand in my pocket. It's warm, warms my second Life. The mouth's talking slowly to itself about…
The round, hanging lanterns, Lit early, are squeaking, Ever more festively, ever brighter, The flying snowflakes glitter. And, quickening their steady gait, As if sensing some pursuit, Through the softly falling snow Under a dark blue net, the horses race. And the gilded footman Stands motionless behind the sleigh, And the Tsar looks around strangely…
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