First there was a god of night and tempest, a black idol without eyes, before whom they leaped, naked and smeared with blood. Later on, in the times of the republic, there were many gods with wives, children, creaking beds, and harmlessly exploding thunderbolts. At the end only superstitious neurotics carried in their pockets little statues of salt, representing the god of irony. There was no greater god at that time.
Then came the barbarians. They too valued highly the little god of irony. They would crush it under their heels and add it to their dishes.
Translated by Czeslaw Milosz. From Postwar Polish Poetry: New Edition, one of my very favorite poetry anthologies.
Hi friends, it was a pleasure to review of Valerie Mejer Caso’s rich and extraordinary This Blue Novel; my piece on it is up now at Poetry Northwest.
Hey folks, new review of Erica Mena’s Featherbone (Ricochet) and Robert Fernandez’s Pink Reef (Canarium) up this morning at Jacket2.
Hey folks— my review of Corina Copp’s The Green Ray and Ben Fama’s Fantasy is up now in the new Kenyon Review Online. Enjoy!
A batch of my poems are online now in the decentered and uncanny journal The Stockholm Review of Literature. Much gratitude to the editors. (While you’re there, please also discover and adore Andy Stallings’ excerpts from his book-length sequence Paradise.)
Dear follower-friends, happy to share that Kenyon Review Online recently published my review of Emily Wilson’s The Great Medieval Yellows and Julie Carr’s Think Tank. Enjoy!
Welcome to the nightmare! A reflection on one of the most ghastly poems of all time. Read all about it at Poetry Northwest.