domingo, marzo 04, 2007
New Poetry From Peter Golub
Interpretation of Yeats
When Jack Bauer goes to Puerto Rico
He isn’t really on vacation
And he isn’t afraid to venture past the walls of Old San Juan into the cemetery
He brings a pack of Lucky Strikes, but forgets to smoke them
When he makes it to Isla Mona he’s too drunk to notice how drunk the iguana’s are
On the fancy boat that takes him around the island
Several times before he finally gets off
And stumbles into the black forest where he falls asleep
In an over priced hotel and writes
The following poem after singing Motherless Child
In all the languages the Government
Taught him
Several girls gather beneath his window while he sings
Weeping not knowing
How to continue on with their lives
The world must be saved endlessly
Just as it must die without end
As this terrible country
A sand dollar inside a hockey’s mans stomach
The koala bear in the backyard
Howling from its plastic tree
If I see the man with the tattoo
Wielding a stapler –it is a threat to national security
Preventions
I have met them at the close of day
From the counter of the rainbow I saw this morning
I passed with a nod of the head
While I lingered around a mangrove watching a bird
This other man I had dreamed
A vainglorious lout
I number him
He has resigned
A terrible beauty is born
Minute by minute the change
While I save the nation
While trout fall from the sky
In perfect sequence
On time
Each with his plans
Chatting on black phones
Minute by minute they live
Too long a sacrifice
O when may it suffice?
That is heaven’s part
To murmur name upon name
And for an hour I have walked, that is, in my mind the future years had come
Out of the murderous innocence
May she be granted beauty and yet not
That chooses right
That is no country
Caught in that sensual neglect consume my heart away sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is and gathers me
Into the artifice of eternity what is past, or to come
The America whose plant is packed into the bowels
Of young-four-stomached-girls
They graze the lawns
Inside my mind
Full of grace
Amid the rustle
High in the hills
Dizzy high
A mechanical
Shape
Jet
As if some empty shell
I should hand in my resignation
Those non regulated factories in China
Where there is no congressional oversight
O my god what is this world coming to?
Wine wine wine
Wine relieves my sigh
The men are on their way
They have my wife
They have my doctor’s medication
Public opinion ripening for so long
And a great army but a showy thing
Delicate matters are not unsolvable by anger
Unless a little powder
A drunken soldier
Murder at her door
In her own blood
As before we pieced out thoughts together
With satellite surveillance
I read the signs
I am a call-sign
Oh, master work of intellect or hand
That country round
None dared admit
If such a thought were mine
Chinese
A shining web
Or hurried them
No moralist
An image of its state
A man in his own secret
Is lost amid the labyrinth he’s made
In politics or art
Delicate matters are not unsolvable by anger
Where we trade our work
The half written resignation
We, who seven years ago
Talked of honor and of truth
Shriek with pleasure if we show
The weasel’s shriek and weasel’s tooth
We traffic
Upon the roads of violence
In monetary wonder stare upon
And thinking of that fit of grief of rage
What youthful mother, a shape upon her lap
Honey of generation had betrayed,
And who must sleep, shriek, and struggle to escape
As recollection of the drug decide
Maria
Maria full of grace
Peter Golub was born in Moscow. After receiving a BA in Russian and Philosophy from the University of Utah he moved to Nevada to pursue an MFA in poetry at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. His translations can be found in Absinthe: New European Writing, Caketrain, Cimarron Review, Zone, and St. Petersburg Review. He also has a cat named Sparrow, a squemu named Brenna, and harbors serious plans for international fame and domination.
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