Etikettarkiv: samtida amerikansk poesi

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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Under Veckans dikt

Veckans dikt 46: ”Dead Souls” av Monica McClure

Religious men will try to tell you
that every abortion is special
and to some extent I agree
I was inconsolable when I missed prom
and had to pay a woman to pretend
to be my mother so I could
obtain parental consent
Every citizen of this world is on trial
I’m learning to speak legalese
as I stroll through civil law like
a gamine through a sample sale
Kendra said she knew a doctor
who would perform abortions for minors
as long as you didn’t tear up
during the ultrasound
I looked all over Houston for him
getting fatter and richer as I went
This all could have been avoided if I’d
convinced an over 18-year-old
to sell me her birth control
if my mother wasn’t a Christian
and if the nurse hadn’t insisted that Kendra
swallow the morning after pill
in front of her as I waited
in the parking lot of T.J. Maxx
It wasn’t my prom exactly
I was a freshman invited by
my upper-class boyfriend
Gulp your items down
the nurse said
If there’s one thing I’ve learned
from watching Snapped it’s don’t
be a woman on trial
Outside the clinic
my poverty makes me brash
Now that I’m free I can go
to the Diane Von Furstenberg party
sponsored by Veuve Cliquot
in droll Easthampton
I’m not a wise man
I’m too fertile for that
But I can tell you that some abortions
are more convenient than others
And I’ve taken notes on how not to
be a poor soul

Monica McClure

© Monica McClure

Ett varmt tack till Monica som lät oss publicera den här dikten, som är hämtad ur hennes helt aktuella diktbok Tender Data (Birds, LLC). Det är hennes debut men hon har tidigare kommit ut med ett par chapbooks, och hennes dikter har pulicerats i publikationer som Tin House, Los Angeles Review, Lit Review, The Awl och Spork Press. Om du vill veta mer kan du besöka McClures blogg.


Ola Wihlke

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Under Veckans dikt

Veckans dikt 27: ”Swan’s Blood” av Niina Pollari


I am next to you
I put my thigh meat next to yours
I have a swan’s blood inside my mouth, so I just smile
The warmth from your thigh will seep into mine
The sturdiness I have
My predator’s leg

I will sit quietly

Like an animal
Enjoying the warm sunlight with blood in my mouth

I’m not a monster
If I seem like one
It’s because nobody ever said so

The swan’s blood is watered down with my saliva
Til it’s thin and and pink

My fingernails itch to prick through to your legs

But I’m not going to
I’m not going
To be a beast

I close my teeth
And my lips over my teeth
And the blood will stay inside and you are spared

My love and the world keeps on ringing with sunshine


Niina Pollari

© Niina Pollari

Ett stort tack till Niina Pollari, poet baserad i Brooklyn, som lät oss publicera ”Swan’s Blood”, hämtad ur den helt nyutkomna diktsamlingen Dead Horse (Birds, LLC). Och apropå hästar, missa inte Pollaris egendomliga, svängiga och fascinerande dikt ”Horse Feet”, med rader som ”Watch me go under / I am forever / I take it, everything / And anyone who rides me grows androgynous and louche / I got horse feet, don’t look at them”


Pollari har tidigare kommit ut med två så kallad chapbooks, Fabulous Essential (Birds of Lace 2009) och Book Four (Hyacinth Girl 2012). Hon har även översatt The Warmth of the Taxidermied Animal av Tytti Heikkinen (Action Books 2013).

Ola Wihlke

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Under Veckans dikt

Veckans dikt 20: ”The Enchanted Snow” av Cynthia Cruz


I go out. I come back.

I am practicing my words, again:
A bouquet of wilting flowers.

Feigning English, barely

American in my waistcoat and fur
Thunder boots.

Swoon, I say
And the swallows fall from their elm,

I said I wished I were
Drowned. But this time
Not just in dream.

The clock clicks, I sleep on.

I swim past the breakers—a radio
Song unfurling in my head.

Daddy, will I ever see you again.


Cynthia Cruz

© Cynthia Cruz

Ett stort och varmt tack till Cynthia Cruz, som lät oss publicera en av hennes dikter. Hennes dikter har publicerats i New YorkerParis Review, Boston Review, American Poetry Review, Kenyon Review, med flera publikationer. Hennes första diktsamling, RUIN, gavs ut av Alice James Books, och hennes andra samling, The Glimmering Room, gav ut av Four Way Books hösten 2012. Hennes tredje diktsamling, Wunderkammer, kom ut i år på Four Way Books. Hon undervisar vid Sarah Lawrence College och bor i Brooklyn, New York.

Ola Wihlke

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Under Veckans dikt

Veckans dikt 17: The Small Husband av Heather Christle


If you want to talk to your husband
and your husband is very small
you lie down on the floor
and the floor is cold
but you warm it
and you look at the wall
where it meets the floor
You are five to eight inches
from the wall
and there are no other noises
Traffic everywhere has stopped
for the holiday
but the parade does not come by
for another couple of hours
and you are neither  hungry
nor too full
and your body is a long silk bag
full of lightweight batteries
arranged on the floor
so it touches the floor
in the maximum number of places
and math has real world value
it turns out
which is not all that surprising
and there are weekends and desires
gestating in your throat
pink and hairless
like mammals
and you close your eyes
and say things to your husband
but he is small
no make him even smaller


Heather Christle

© Heather Christle

Ett stort tack till Heather Christle för att vi fick låna hennes dikt, som är hämtad ur What Is Amazing (2012). Hon har även skrivit The Difficult Farm (2009) och The Trees The Trees (2011), som vann Believer Poetry Award.


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Under Veckans dikt