Woods and Chalices

By Tomaz Salamun

Encouraged by means of Rimbaud and Ashbery, the Slovenian poet Tomaž Šalamun is now inspiring the more youthful iteration of yank poets—and Woods and Chalices will safe his position within the ranks of influential, experimental twenty-first-century writers. Šalamun's strengths are on show right here: innocence and obscenity, heavily allied; an exceptional ancient succeed in; and questions, instructions, and statements of id that problem all norms and but appear uncannily everyday and right— “I'm molasses, don't put out of your mind that."

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Will lighting be by means of the legs? Will the dirt burn? I assemble myself through Mormons. I embroider from lace, i've got a butterfly, Tasso, who beverages from a bottle. Clouds rush like crumpled wash, speedier than watered visitors. within the Tent between Grapes Don’t sneak me onto mountains, poultry. Don’t be certain your neighbor. You creep on my vaults. the place paws and stars flash. the place Nietzsche bites his knees (Komarča! ) at the course above great. What an azure milky whiteness! Did you knead a bit flour into torpedoes? Did you sponsor a theft of bees? Ears comply with the sky. Tendrils—if utterly in white garlic—do then you tear them like berries? We pay attention the engine, no longer the pony. His eyes are poured out onto my palms. Stumps and columns and stalks that you just dunk into the Mediterranean. Steve and Ken (asleep) water vegetation. The chimney branches out. mom and loss of life there is not any grinding. intake is embittered. The shove twists a white feather. The legislation is in Kent’s throat. White eco-friendly violets. The schmeketa pump is knocked down. You riot within the colour of spilled wine. You convey tarts and identify them, promote them right here. White quails have top-notch wings. The bone is between the stumbled on. The discovered is anticipated by means of witch medical professionals. be certain to her what she observed. make sure to her that she was once chatting. That there are not any continues to be. That the way in which is simple constantly. that there's no longer even a drop of reproach in entrance of the white mute. alongside Grajena River I helped the peach to braid itself. Why did you already close your mouth at the mountain? The sled rolls, turns around its axles. It runs with canine and moose. Boka is an ink stain. minimize into the icy slope and scattered powder. The stone provides warmth. Ormoź begs a rooster. i'm Ban’s daughter. I performed piano in Poker, the backyard didn't continue. absolutely i have to have died. The useless Ou peut-être pas. might be their trumpets curve. They forgot doorknobs within the floods and now they dive for them. probably they press the buttons to rescind the aberrations. possibly they use crepe paper. possibly they’re now not so talentless and crackle underwater like shells and stones, such that each thousand years of crackling harvests us a tiny white stone. Ancestor Is it chilly? Are you snowed in? The tent, does it nonetheless creak? In a box close to the Hrpelje-Kozina station within the yr 1911, a cadet shot himself within the mouth with a pistol. Academy of yank Poets Muldoon says Heaney is just like the Vasa send. equipped on 3 flooring, it used to be the world’s greatest battleship. It made half of one mile and capsized on my own in a harbor. the soldiers are killed by way of bugs and absence of glycerine. Scurvy corrodes their skulls. Spruce timber shake off their seed and snow. among Zlatorog and the Savica waterfall there isn't any hoarfrost. tooth The tongue doesn’t bind itself. It’s a purifier and a fresh freak, the marble-smooth epidermis of subtle girls, a cork, a self-satisfied little clod. while Alexander burns Persepolis, it might meditate. It takes aside combating lions as though it’s a silky little onion (diminutives advance, they flood), their kindness is worse than K’s, who needs us all good.

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