Abbas Kiarostami (Atlantic City)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 974

Atlantic City

the use of poetic dialogue
philosophical filmmakers
the allegorical use of storytelling

right knee lower left shin and calf

A sentence is a word in a photograph.

a cracked tower
yes
it was athletica sì quella

sua rete
ma
non aveva
in sé potenza
alcuna —
se cupamente pietro desert hacked
into the torn soil — the peaks are

still film cameras
penetrasse
gunpowder

bent along
its banks

what is it
it was an athletic
time
presto
trovò di una sua rete
ma non
aveva
mutilation alarmed ranchers
don’t think of the bank

film
cameras
penetrasse
gunpowder order
awaiting presumptions

resistenza alcuna
stessa sé —

LA RETE DI STEVE

arms akimbo
in princeton
in 2000
the famous
squirrelly record producer
in boring denim and black work
shirt chameleon-like
his wicked opacity
doesn’t applaud
when the band
finishes its final
song — there are
still film cameras
pentax nikon canon
is that guy picciotto
in the branches
of a pine tree?

Male Ego Investment (Ghost Rider)

Comics make the whorl go rondo. Ever wonder what Ghost Rider would do if he lost his wallet on the subway? He would download, share, and distribute this work illegally in libraries, museums, squat houses and corporate gyms. Thank you, as always, for reading.

Print Formatting with Strings

Wikipedia Poem, No. 795

w795

black of 
    warmth 
  of a 
   truce 
      in 
          warmth of death i 
      live in black of death i 
live in that disappearing apparition 
you and the black bough
      of black of 
moments only 
i 
          am the 
   apparition that 
disappears 
believes without noticing you ask me with strings 
      black moments 
on an order of space 
of the apparition you and 
the 
         cleric in 
favor of 
  death i 
      live 
in 
    what disappears 
and space 
and 
black 
          the black of you under moments 
only i am sacerdotal of  
  apparition 
         your 
         caresses but 
i 
do not confess you ask me forever 
print forever print forever print forever

Self-Conscious About My Ancestry

Wikipedia Poem, No. 635

w635-sm

“Ogni parola / è un gallo che canta all’alba. / Al mattino vedo il tuo volto / teso a strapiombo sulla mia grandezza.” Alda Merini

      permanently debilitated 
     google street 
    view images of acquaviva platani planted 
          soft yellow was much older 
than the 
average 
american the terminal point 
in
a careful permanant debilitating thought google street 
view images 
        carefully 
       scan 
  what's really there not
       what's 
      really modest colonialist influence i 
  spent hours 
rippling
       through
   google street view images of instafame 
   foreground holds 
background nisseni no more

 

After Cellini’s ‘Perseus with the Head of Medusa’

Wikipedia Poem, No. 590

pain 
if 
you ever forgive me

i'm 
not 
silent   i'm not 

know that 
premere 
il fiore 

il dolore il labbro   già   mi perdoni 
i'm not dischiusa 
meraviglia che orgoglio smisurato perché son debole d'argilla di
 
una fibra       dischiusa 
meraviglia che mi 
cresce dentro non so che 

chiama fibra di 
decifrare weak   clay 
but premere il dolore se 
     
mai tu 
mi 
trattiene nellehich   drag

ma in fervide unghie 
del mio tempo
tempo di demonio o 

di decifrare da un orrible 
step again drag me in    fervide 
proud for they are m'assale e mi trattiene nellein 

if you ever forgive me 
devi   i'm not silent   premere 
il fiore

 

“Seven Aphorisms” by Alda Merini

I am a furious
little bee.

To mistake shit
for chocolate
is the privilege
of the overeducated.

Every man is a friend
to his own
pathology.

I never speak
when I am not
turned on.

The gun
I point at my head
is called poetry.

Every tibia loves its fibula.

Alda Merini
is tired of repeating
that she is crazy.

 

Translated by Carla Billitteri


Source: FSG Book of Twentieth-Century Italian Poetry: An Anthology. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2015. Print. P 493.

“Da Aforismi e Magie” by Alda Merini

Sono una piccola
ape furibonda.

Confondere la merda
con la cioccolata
é un privilegio delle persone
estremamente colte.

Oguno é amino
della sua
patalogia.

Non parlo mai
se non sono
accesa.

La pistola
che ho puntato alla tempia
si chiama Poesia.

Ogni tibia ama la sua fibula.

Alda Merini
é stanca di ripetere
che é pazza.


Source: FSG Book of Twentieth-Century Italian Poetry: An Anthology. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2015. Print. P 492.