Saturday, November 17, 2007

Tricked Out Like a Poet

"I'll let you know what I see there. Just don't ask me to explain it." ("In the Forest of the Lunar Grapefruits")


Clock Echo

I sat down
in a clearing in time.
It was a pool of silence.
White silence.
Incredible ring
where the bright stars collide
with a dozen floating
black numbers.


Might as well say star
as orange.
Riverbed as sky.



By day, the farmhand's
by night, Pierrot's

("Three Crepuscular Poems II")


And so the boat stops.
There's a rhythmless peace
& I scamper on deck
tricked out like a poet.


Federico Garcia Lorca, Suites, tr. Jerome Rothenberg, Green Integer, 2001

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