Ulysses’ shadow dancing with a herd of monsters, winding its paleo-way through corridors half-shed of horse and ibex It winds into a tower Gaudi dreamed children blowing like sky-blue fluff across the roof of a world without straight line or right angle So that the wily meanderer still lives even if in Catholic drag —…
Nothing like 10 in the morning for making love — cats glaring from the table opposite, the dog watching gloomily from the rug, and after, opening cans of their food, you in the shower singing while elevators ring up through the sidewalk, carrying their racks of dresses, the noises of ordinary business: unloading, loading. Later,…
MASTHEAD Directors DeWitt Henry Peter O'Malley Coordinating Editor for This Issue James Randall Associate Editor for This Issue Richard Tillinghast Managing Editor Joyce Peseroff CONTRIBUTORS ALEXANDER ALBERTUS, who lives in Mill Valley, California, is translating a selection of poems by the Norwegian poet, Inger Hagerup. The poems in this issue represent his first publication in…
Something is cooking with no containing wall something vague to the point of being a lesion peering blindingly from a wall in which it is weightless, without size, in need of a caustic restless shoulder that seems to be rowing, translating one-way forever deeper Perched there, Bernifal rides back and forth warbling at times into…
On my left arm a fat bruise The size of a water bug; Though not so fleet — This one will linger for weeks, Patient, glowering; Look — Jupiter’s wild, shifting face: Swift eddies, rotating iridescence, At the center a red hot Eye (don’t touch!) Round which black winds whirl. Strange fertile beauty, So at…
In a dream to wander to some place where may be heard the complaints of all the miserable on earth. Hawthorne, The American Notebooks 1. To the Poets Let let let let be to the poets praise,…
Three inch caramel-colored field slug on its back, vibrating by the scraps of a big Amanita Muscaria It has eaten more than its size and now its true size in visionary trance makes me sad of my size — I can never eat enough of a higher order to trick the interior leper to the…
The bricks pale, two by two, behind the fire Laid across dread-hot dragontails. One ear cocked for a free lance, you’re stalled Above — or no, below — tonight’s pyre Of loveknots quite untied in style. Whose scales Measure me? you ask. For that matter, inspire? Or so you’d write, set straight, complain To me…
I am sending my son an emergency survival kit: flares to light up wild mountainous terrain to searches in planes; inscrutably furled space blanket, tested against exposure at Everest by recent explorers; small high-calorie ration to sustain one really strayed to the edge of the world. I include a…
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