Music
I am sitting in a convenient store my coffee is getting cold the word triumvirate pops up it's a word that doesn't belong here yet, it snaps into its place: what is real is what is the case suddenly, I wanna be crazy old the laughing belly of our truth and I wanna be profoundly ...
To be a bad poet
who is not invited to exotic poetry festivals in cultural capitals, not celebrated for his otherness, not for the soothing justice that emanates from his professionally __translated words, not for the clapping of the audience when he reads and they see the scaffolding of a pristine soul To be that poet who loves the colors ...
Poem , in which we are not immortal but our identities dissolve in- to one another and we are only a little bit afraid to call it love
Reading: The Shirt by Robert Pinsky
Robert 24 April 2013. The Shirt The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams, The nearly invisible stitches along the collar Turned in a sweatshop by Koreans or Malaysians Gossiping over tea and noodles on their break Or talking money or politics while one fitted This armpiece with its overseam to the band Of cuff ...