There were four of us, following a dirt road which began
in the foothills and went right up into the mountains
where a little cottage was waiting for us.
All posts tagged: Poetry
The Other One
By NADINE BOTHA
I could find a million nuances for how to improve me and influence my life,
as though, if I could just identify that one—like The One, the love—
I would know, it would know and that would be that.
Writer
I keep my tools
hidden,
until the sun rasps
its black breath over
the suburbs. Only then
The Body
the Body rearranges
itself around
the other. points of entry and exit,
embraces. Embraces. the
thrill of skin. density
surrenders to Liquid. semen, blood,
mucous, milk. the Body yields to
Suspension
from Invisible Earthquake
1st May, 12h38
I’m navigating in and out
Of mental combat
Trying to figure
Exactly what station I’ve pulled into,
How to answer that simple question
How are you?
Enough of an Interruption
By ALAN FINLAY
It’s our wedding anniversary—i almost forgot.
been drowning listening to bartók,
and when i say
drowning i mean—
you run bathwater
submerge yourself, exhausted
“ask daddy”
What I Should Have Worn at My Wedding
By LIESL JOBSON
Potato skins, not peach skin satin,
pills, not pearls for buttons at my wrists,
onions in my bouquet, for coming tears.
12 Anxieties for April 12th
By LIESL JOBSON
On my side of the glass
POLICEMAN KILLS CAT
are burglar bars
on the other side
“DR DEATH” ACQUITTED
a grille
Omnipresence: A Poetry and Imagine Installation in Castiglione del Terziere, Italy
Poems by LORIS JACOPO BOLLINI and art by ANDREA POGGIPOLLINI, with an introduction by MARTHA COOLEY
Andrea Poggipollini is a Bologna-based artist who works in multiple media. His summer-long installation “Omnipresence” in the medieval borgo (walled village) of Castiglione del Terziere in Lunigiana, Tuscany, featured sculpture, photography, video, and excerpts from poems by Loris Jacopo Bononi. Bononi, an Italian writer (earlier in his career, a doctor), writes poetry and prose; his work has been lauded by Pier Paolo Pasolini, among others. He is the author of Trilogia (Diario postumo, Miserere dei, and Il poeta muore), Libri e Destini, and other texts.
Viewers walked through the borgo to encounter Poggipollini’s and Bononi’s collaboration in unexpected places: on placards on walls high and low, windows, on the ground, and in cellars. Among the installation’s elements were life-sized sculptures of human figures in black or white—kneeling, standing, sitting—which materialized as unexpectedly as phantoms on stone walls, in a bell-tower, and on the balcony of the village’s once-grandest house, now abandoned. In a passageway between two buildings were photographs by Poggipollini of sculptures he’d previously made, to which Bononi’s poetry-excerpts are an implicit response.
The photographs of Poggipollini’s work are echoes of echoes of echoes, one might say.
Farting Knees II: Talking to My Lover
When I vomit
it will be through my forehead.
Be warned, stand far off
because the vomit will not spare you.