прочитання


Гео и язык канала: не указан, не указан
Категория: не указана


про читання

Связанные каналы

Гео и язык канала
не указан, не указан
Категория
не указана
Статистика
Фильтр публикаций


Репост из: Олег Коцарев. Тексти
Моя електронна книжка поезій "Площа Чарлі Чапліна" з українськими оригіналами та чеськими перекладами Мірослава Томека у вільному доступі онлайн - https://web2.mlp.cz/koweb/00/04/42/29/93/chaplinovo_namesti.pdf




Aram Saroyan


Aram Saroyan


також він:




Margaret Atwood


Against the Police

My entire Oeuvre is against the police
If I write a Love poem it’s against the police
And if I sing the nakedness of bodies I sing against the police
And if I make this Earth a metaphor I make a metaphor against the police
If I speak wildly in my poems I speak against the police
And if I manage to create a poem it’s against the police
I haven’t written a single word, a verse, a stanza that isn’t against the police
All my prose is against the police
My entire Oeuvre
Including this poem
My whole Oeuvre
Is against the police.

Miguel James
trans. Guillermo Parra




If nothing else, the success of Infinite Jest is proof that the Great American Hype Machine can still work wonders, in terms of sales. The novel has moved some 60,000 copies and racked up a stack of glowing reviews as thick as it is. What makes the book’s success even more noteworthy is that it is, in a word, terrible. Other words I might use include bloated, boring, gratuitous, and – perhaps especially – uncontrolled. I would, in fact, go so far as to say that Infinite Jest is one of the very few novels for which the phrase ‘not worth the paper it’s written on’ has real meaning in at least an ecological sense; but to resort to such hyperbole would be to fall into the rut that characterises many reviews of this novel.

As the preceding paragraph should make clear, I found Infinite Jest immensely unsatisfactory. I resent the five weeks of my life I gave over to it;


They’ve left. They’ve all left.
The pigeon feeders have left.
The old men on the benches have left.
The white-gloved ladies with the Great Danes have left.
The lovers who thought about coming have left.
The man in the three-piece suit has left.
The man who was a three-piece band has left.
The man on the milkcrate with the bible has left.
Even the birds have left.
Now the trees are thinking about leaving too.
And the grass is trying to turn itself in.
Of course the buses no longer pass.
And the children no longer ask.
The air wants to go and is in discussions.
The clouds are trying to steer clear.
The sky is reaching for its hands.
Even the moon sees what’s going on.
But the stars remain in the dark.
As does the chess player.
Who sits with all his pieces
In position.




Репост из: Mano
***
марш починався з притишених кроків
марш трясовинників і землерийок
марш скінчився криком жінки
жінки – що мешкає попід рікою
ніби під прозорим склом
вабить до себе материньскою любов’ю
четвертого сина
вабить четвертим словом
не забирай його
прошу я непевно
а ти впізнаєш мене за страхом у голосі
проклинаєш мене
і я вже не молюсь
натомість плачу
день і ніч плачу до твоєї ріки
і зміцнюється твоє скло
і зміцнюється твій голос
але у мені дух землі
я у землі
я – земля
мій біль дає життя землерийкам
землерийки накликають трясовинників
на честь совісті починається марш
наймасштабніший марш
кричи жінко
кричи
нехай трісне скло ріки
твій крик здатний давати життя
так само як і мій біль
я даю життя маршам проти тебе
а ти даєш життя новому сину
а син – епосі
п’ять
шість
сім
вісім
дев’ять
десять

#мано


Sometimes everything seems so oh, I don't know.


Poem by Joe Brainard - Poems | Academy of American Poets
https://poets.org/poem/poem-16






My Heart

I'm not going to cry all the time
nor shall I laugh all the time,
I don't prefer one "strain" to another.
I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie,
not just a sleeper, but also the big,
overproduced first-run kind. I want to be
at least as alive as the vulgar. And if
some aficionado of my mess says "That's
not like Frank!," all to the good! I
don't wear brown and grey suits all the time,
do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera,
often. I want my feet to be bare,
I want my face to be shaven, and my heart—
you can't plan on the heart, but
the better part of it, my poetry, is open. 

Frank O'Hara




Poem

Lana Turner has collapsed!
I was trotting along and suddenly
it started raining and snowing
and you said it was hailing
but hailing hits you on the head
hard so it was really snowing and
raining and I was in such a hurry
to meet you but the traffic
was acting exactly like the sky
and suddenly I see a headline
LANA TURNER HAS COLLAPSED!
there is no snow in Hollywood
there is no rain in California
I have been to lots of parties
and acted perfectly disgraceful
but I never actually collapsed
oh Lana Turner we love you get up

Frank O'Hara (1962)

Показано 20 последних публикаций.

15

подписчиков
Статистика канала