Etikettarkiv: poem

Veckans dikt 113: ”mozambique” av Rodney Koeneke


let us put aside intelligence
thinking is the plague of kings

let us abandon
the pentecostal wine of too much talking

feluccas easing into muddy rivers
flotillas on the high platonic blue

accruing all the pennants
from accidents of blueness

the months of summer turning
in their fiery chemise

pretending to be tired
of their place inside the genre

yet moving with rapidity
in arcs across the plot

which is still a form of thinking
a humming while you’re planting

new crops to strip from hillsides
in springs that comes to soon


”mozambique” from Body & Glass. Copyright 2018 by Rodney Koeneke. Used with permission of the author and Wave Books.

Ett varmt tack till Heidi Broadhead, Wave Books och Rodney Koeneke, för att vi fick publicera den här dikten av Rodney Koeneke, hämtad ur hans diktsamling Body & Glass. Missa inte att göra ett besök på Wave Books hemsida.


Ola Wihlke

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Veckans dikt 111: ”Pathological Empathy” av Dara Wier


It irritates us
& what might that be

as in
it drives me crazy

something nearly nothing
& really irrelevant

something almost nothing
something from one’s childhood

that changes you forever
so much so

it’s unforgettable
like Fellini

the first time
or some song

I like how people like to think
of the end of the world

From time to time
how small we let ourselves be

to be able to say
beginning with everything beginning

to be never-ending
because we can imagine that

because our minds do that to us
without fail

drilling down paradox directly into us
as sure as sure can be

right from the beginning
and what is that anyway

something to be sad to lose
to be knowing

if not now eventually
something to be crying over

when anyone complains
how poems are hard to understand

for instance
aren’t they really complaining

that life is impossible
to understand

and that we spend most of it
keeping ourselves distracted

from that unanswerable
and therefore, what,

idiotic line of questioning
as it turns out

most comparisons are,
as if

the love of one’s life’s death
can be compared

to the worst breakup of all time
or as if some of what

you miss
you never knew to miss it

or anyone who knows
the feeling of waiting

through the night
for a loved one to appear

and to be put away
for safekeeping

or how it is when
a fever subsides

or a cough is codeine quelled
or a fever breaks

and one no longer stands
on the edge of panic


”Pathological Empathy” from In the Still of the Night. Copyright 2017 by Dara Wier. Used with permission of the author and Wave Books.

Ett varmt tack till Dara Wier och Wave Books för att vi fick publicera den här dikten, som är hämtad ur In the Still of the Night. Läs mer om Wier, hennes tidigare böcker och om Wave Books på förlagets hemsida. Wave Books har en unik utgivning av samtida amerikansk lyrik.


Ola Wihlke

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Veckans dikt 110: ”RUNNING NYMPH” av Ariana Reines



for Nicole Eisenman

I was on my knees
Hacking my brains
Alone in a bone

Of unratified light
Someone downstairs
Was hacking & retching

& up thru the airshaft blew a baconlike
Breeze with notes of weed & a colorless
Wave came down through the orange

Mesh the super put up to keep out the pigeons
& doves. They beat their wings. Something
Historical was happening to me

Something already
Antique. I felt myself pushing
My hair to one side of my face. I swear

Was making me do it
The voices

From the television reached me. They had
Had to pass through at least three walls.
They were like

Overtakes me eventually


20 January 2017


”RUNNING NYMPH” from A SAND BOOK. Copyright 2017 by Ariana Reines. Used with permission of the author.

Ett hjärtligt tack till Ariana Reines för att vi fick publicera den här dikten, som är hämtad ur hennes kommande diktsamling A SAND BOOK. Vi vill även passa på att rekommendera Reines senaste bok, TELEPHONE (Wonder).

Screen-Shot-2017-03-08-at-3.57.08-PM (1)

Om du vill läsa recensioner för att få ett hum om Reines lyrik rekommenderar hon denna, av Richard Hell i Bookforum, och denna, av B.K. Fischer i The Boston Review. Och vi rekommenderar varmt Reines Tumblr.

Ola Wihlke

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Veckans dikt 103: ”fowles in tha frith” av Julian Talamantez Brolaski

after ‘Fowles in the frith’ (MS Douce 139, f. 5r), late 13th century

fowles in þe frith
þe fisses in þe flod
and i mon waxe wod
much sorwe i walke with
for beste of bon and blod

turkey in the straw
fishes in my maw
and I moan tooroola
much melancholie I make
for that beastss sake

turkey in tha straw
fishes in tha pond
& I upflay its maw
wot moanings I make
for a bloody bestiary

doves are in the elm
bambi in the sea
and ahm mad crazy
iron sorrow iz my wroth
devil amid dayeseyes

foaming in the piss
fishes in the midst
and I troll merrily—
taloo talay
fa tooril toorel toolay


Copyright 2017 by Julian Talamantez Brolaski. Used with permission of the author and Wave Books.

Ett varmt tack till Julian och Wave Books för att vi fick publicera den här dikten, som är hämtad ur den fantastiska samlingen Of Mongrelitude. För att läsa mer om Julian och andra titlar från Wave Books klicka här. Deras utgivning är verkligen något utöver det vanliga.


Ola Wihlke

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Veckans dikt 101: ”Torso of Air” av Ocean Vuong


Suppose you do change your life.
& the body is more than

a portion of night—sealed
with bruises. Suppose you woke

& found your shadow replaced
by a black wolf. The boy, beautiful

& gone. So you take the knife to the wall
instead. You carve & carve

until a coin of light appears
and you get to look in, at last,

on happiness. The eye
staring back from the other side—



Copyright 2016 by Ocean Vuong. Used with permission of the author and Coppper Canyon Press.

Ett stort och varmt tack till Ocean Vuong och Copper Canyon Press, för att vi fick publicera en dikt ur den mycket starka och emellanåt sublima Night Sky With Exit Wounds (Copper Canyon Press), som var en av de mer omtalade diktsamlingarna 2016. Det är Vuongs första fullängdssamling. Daniel Wenger har skrivit en väldigt fin text om Vuongs poesi i New Yorker. Läs den. Och om jag har förstått saken rätt ges den här exceptionella diktsamlingen ut av Modernista på svenska i höst.


Ola Wihlke

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Veckans dikt 100: ”The Magic Mountain” av Cedar Sigo


I dreamt I was an orator
trapped in a typewriter—

Now I seem to have
come out on
the other side:

My mind seizes on
the form first


I color in
the outline as one would
the border of a country

whatever techniques
are called upon

to welcome the body
of the poem

into the room


Copyright 2017 by Cedar Sigo. Used with permission of the author and Wave Books.

Ett varmt tack till Cedar Sigo, och de vänliga människorna på Wave Books, för att vi fick publicera den här dikten, som är hämtad från kommande diktsamlingen Royals, som är något utöver det vanliga. Vi lånar helt fräckt den översiktliga presentationen av Sigo från Wave Books utmärkta hemsida:

Cedar Sigo was raised on the Suquamish Reservation in the Pacific Northwest and studied at The Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at the Naropa Institute. He is the editor of There Your Are: Interviews, Journals, and Ephemera, on Joanne Kyger (forthcoming from Wave Books, 2017), and author of eight books and pamphlets of poetry, including Royals (forthcoming from Wave Books, 2017), Language Arts (Wave Books, 2014), Stranger in Town (City Lights, 2010), Expensive Magic (House Press, 2008), and two editions of Selected Writings (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2003 and 2005). He has taught workshops at St. Mary’s College, Naropa University, and University Press Books. He lives in San Francisco.”

Och det här trevliga fotot av Sigo har vi fått låna av Wave Books:

sigo-new-author-photo-12-2016Photo © Brian Marr

Ola Wihlke

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Veckans dikt 99: ”A Sunset” av Ari Banias


I watch a woman take a photo
of a flowering tree with her phone.
A future where no one will look at it,
perpetual trembling which wasn’t
and isn’t. I have taken photos of a sunset.
In person, ”wow” ”beautiful”
but the picture can only be
as interesting as a word repeated until emptied.
I think I believe this.
Sunset the word holds more than a photo could.
Since it announces the sun then puts it away.
We went to the poppy preserve
where the poppies were few but generous clumps
of them grew right out the fence
like a slightly cruel lesson.
I watched your face, just out of reach.
The flowers are diminished by the lens.
The woman tries and tries to make it right
bending her knees, tilting back.
I take a photo of a sunset, with flash.
I who think I have something
to learn from anything learned nothing from the streetlight
that shines obnoxiously into my bedroom.
This is my photo of a tree in bloom.
A thought unfolding
across somebody’s face.


Reprinted from ANYBODY by Ari Banias. Copyright © 2016 by Ari Banias. Used with permission of the publisher, W. W. Norton & Company Inc. All rights reserved.

Ett stort och varmt tack till Ari Banias för att han lät oss publicera den här dikten, som är hämtad ur hans kritikerrosade debutsamling ANYBODY. Skriver Maggie Nelson träffande om Banias diktvärld: ”I’m so impressed by the range and grace of Ari Banias’ Anybody. It’s discursive, straight-talking, and thinky, then ghostlike, elliptical, and mischivious. It takes its time, then rushes; it’s quiet, then bold; it’s steeped in sociality, then ringing with solitude.”


Ola Wihlke

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