The first sound is the gong
Of a dumpster, kicked possibly
By one of the homeless twins
Who live at The Mission, followed
By the rattle of glass and aluminum—
Signs of early success—against the cages
Of their grocery carts filled with cans, bottles,
Anything stamped with 5¢ deposit
Next to our state’s abbreviation.
It’s our pleasure to bring you new poems by four poets whose work will also appear in an upcoming print issue of The Common.
Our July poetry feature celebrates the distinguished career of The Common contributor John Matthias with a selection of several of his poems from the last five decades. This year Shearsman Books completes the publication of the collected poems of John Matthias in three volumes: Collected Shorter Poems, Vol. 2 (1995-2011), Collected Longer Poems, and Collected Shorter Poems, Vol. 1 (1961-1994).
This June, we’re showcasing poems by five new contributors to the print journal!
Translated by DON SHARE
Everything is filled with you,
and everything is filled with me:
the towns are full,
just as the cemeteries are full
of you, all the houses
are full of me, all the bodies.
Translated by DON SHARE
Morgualos love chimneys, white cotton shirts, the agapanthus, a tree called the seven-skin, the scent of fresh cilantro as it falls into soup, the sound of church bells, and days without clouds.
by DON SHARE
Grudging and begrudging me snow
here where the broken water runs
(Grand Theft Auto… Shark Attack Pictures)
and not in exile I reflect
that nobody in Ovid turns into
their mother or father
Don Share published three poems, including “Wishbone,” the title poem of his newest collection, in the first issue of The Common. He’s been on a roll ever since, publishing five books as author, translator, or editor in the last year and a half. Here are a few selections from and links to those volumes:
mermaid legs/ whiskers/ open mouth/ callipygian bark/
semen sap/ elbow fold/ knees/ arms stretched above a head/
torso swung upside down/ hair sweeping the ground/
breasts/ cave turned inside out/ toes holding on/
eye socket/ palm/ thumb/ twisting veins/ freckle/ bellybutton/
vulva/ ghost fetus/ nose/ nipple/ thigh/ petrified cloud
By PABLO NERUDA
The Isla Negra wildflowers
are blooming,
they have no names, some
seem like sand crocuses,
others
illuminate
the ground with yellow lighting.
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