Poetry Depot

July 4, 2012

Filed under: American — razvan @ 11:04 am

Natasha Trethewey (b. 1966) is an American poet who was appointed United States Poet Laureate in June 2012 (wiki)


Providence

What’s left is footage: the hours before
Camille, 1969—hurricane
parties, palm trees leaning
in the wind,
fronds blown back,

a woman’s hair. Then after:
the vacant lots,
boats washed ashore, a swamp

where graves had been. I recall

how we huddled all night in our small house,
moving between rooms,
emptying pots filled with rain.

The next day, our house—
on its cinderblocks—seemed to float

in the flooded yard: no foundation

beneath us, nothing I could see
tying us to the land.
In the water, our reflection
trembled,
disappeared
when I bent to touch it.

from poets.org

The Mask of Authority (A letter to Pier Paolo Pasolini)

Filed under: anonymous — razvan @ 11:00 am

2012
Could I forget this? Yes, of course; I/ should be able to… what could one do…

As I send my words to Africa
There comes your old voice: Remember Shel-/ly! You were leading me on this walk
some name poetry, and others, self:
The Orient of what’s considered
West; and Occident from any East; or so Boreal as seen from South;
Completely Austral for all Northern:

One might think this is the centre of the

world; look closer; right! This is just you:
Left to all right-wings and absolute right for all those who fight for a Left

These are the fish heads, these are the dogs weaving their stray

ways throughout the world
From times when proud odes hanged high in mosques
And Wang Wei opposed a fisherman to the rise and fall of industry
Blaming you and me & being right
This is the young man
and these are his rubber boots – empty; so we’ve been told.

All masks for power, for your estranged manner of finding sons and distant
fathers, prisoners of a frozen

and shiny desert called history
: I’ve seen the heroes growing very
Old, thirsty for blood, explaining all in words that once meant water, masters,
human love; whom do they speak to?
: and who is talking through all the flags
Preaching for a pose: peace, skin-color/ and democratic right to pursue
Death in any form that is social?!

You and all these me guilty of us,/ at last, with no need for an excuse.

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