Friday, 19 March 2010

Poems - 4

By Morten Øen

this is how I tell you about us
all over again:
this is how I tell you about us. About summer heat or valley floor. The outbreak
of darkness

as Horizon
as Suggested =

your room. Your view

this is how one life lengthens the next. Otherwise it is

voices to tell in

and so this is how it has become, I think

there is daylight here (or as close to it as one can get)
dream and hour


I rattle off The Sleepless Nights. Your reality as
more desirable than mine

the same dead end you regret

and when you are here, why point defencelessly backward

this under the trees
the white pavilion
what ploughed furrows. What a place

what a place

how much can you remember

once I was tall and comely like you
thought as bird/hand

we read our past
from earth to person. No context. All the same

read yourself into this. Once I was almost like you.


dust-yellow plains or forest
impending choice where journey is transfer that cannot be communicated
or presented

stone is not Stone As Burden
writing not approached

burnt paper, salt
earth in this fading light

land without us

translated from Norwegian by David McDuff

Poems - 1
Poems - 2
Poems - 3

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