2017. október 19., csütörtök

Denver Butson: Tuesday 9:00 AM

A man standing at the bus stop
reading the newspaper is on fire
Flames are peeking out
from beneath his collar and cuffs
His shoes have begun to melt

The woman next to him
wants to mention it to him
that he is burning
but she is drowning
Water is everywhere
in her mouth and ears
in her eyes
A stream of water runs
steadily from her blouse

Another woman stands at the bus stop
freezing to death
She tries to stand near the man
who is on fire
to try to melt the icicles
that have formed on her eyelashes
and on her nostrils
to stop her teeth long enough
from chattering to say something
to the woman who is drowning
but the woman who is freezing to death
has trouble moving
with blocks of ice on her feet

It takes the three some time
to board the bus
what with the flames
and water and ice
But when they finally climb the stairs
and take their seats
the driver doesn’t even notice
that none of them has paid
because he is tortured
by visions and is wondering
if the man who got off at the last stop
was really being mauled to death
by wild dogs.

2017. október 18., szerda

2017. október 17., kedd

Louis McKee: What Cowboys Know About Love

Last night on the sports channel
I watched the rodeo.
Those cowboys have it right;
the best and the beauty of it.
You cannot win, so you ride
for as long as you can and enjoy it.
When you dismount,
whether it be on your own or not,
it won’t look pretty. You’ll limp off.
But you’ll feel good; your heart
will be pounding like it never has,
and walking away, one crazy step
after another, your ears will ring
with the loud approval
of those who never felt so good.

2017. október 16., hétfő

Tamási József: valamikor

valamikor
talán holnap
talán még ma este
de lehet
hogy csak
egy hónap múlva
vagy később
nem tudom
hogy mikor
bezárom az ajtót
magam mögött
úgy se jössz

2017. október 14., szombat

Petri György: Horatiusnak rossz napja van

A szeretettel nem tudok mit kezdeni – – –
Tartsanak el, és hízelegjenek,
de ugyanakkor hagyjanak békén,
küldjenek pénzt postán.
Azt is unom, hogy hízelegjenek.
Veszitsenek el nagyobb összeget az utcán,
amit én majd véletlenül megtalálok.
Legyenek elragadtatva tőlem a hátam mögött,
hogy én tényleg egészen véletlenül visszahalljam
valakitől, aki nem is tudja, hogy rólam beszél.
Irassák rám a házukat, és haljanak meg.

2017. október 13., péntek

Ed Pilolla: Favorite Mug

Your day is like your favorite mug.
You fill it with the necessary stuff
to survive in this world.
Those days
let me be the seasoning.
Other days I get to fill it with your favorite brew
as well as mine,
vanilla and chai leaves and
inside jokes
and a dollop of raw honesty
and honey.

I will gently blow on your day
when it's too hot,
cup my hands to share in this warmth
and fill it with spirits along the way.
Never will I leave your mug
on the countertop with coffee grounds
at the bottom for days.

Don't judge me by my propensity to blast Van Halen
or how I casually enter the bathroom
to brush my teeth while you're peeing
and not pick up on that unhappy look on your face.
Judge me instead by how I thread my fingers through the handle
of your day,
lift the rim of your world to my lips
and drink in your story.

2017. október 12., csütörtök

Charles Bukowski: The Genius of the Crowd

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach love do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their concepts
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art