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CONTENTS |
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Paul Celan: A Symposium |
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Jonathan Holden |
"Fugue of Death": Fugal Orchestration |
Lee Upton |
"Speak You Too": What Isn't a Riddle Isn't Speaking |
David Young |
"To Be Written Under a Picture": The Poet as Allegorist and Visionary |
Stephen Tapscott |
"Flower": Celan's "Blume" |
Susan Stewart |
Notes on Celan's "WEGGEBEIZT" |
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Stuart Friebert |
"Floating Border": Past Present |
**** |
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Wislawa Szymborska |
Negative |
James Haug |
Eve with the Lid On Lane of Blue Mist |
Jesse Lee Kercheval |
Ice |
Tim Ross |
The Wiring Openings |
D. Nurkse |
1665 Cape Anne |
Ioanna Carlsen |
Diebenkorn's Ocean Park, 94 |
Robin Behn |
The Yellow House Gives Art Book Tour Number One Tour Number Two Horse Between Tours Tour Number Three |
S. D. Dillon |
The Eye of the Cy-clone |
Wayne Miller |
Nocturne |
Kurt S. Olsson |
Off Hours |
Dore Kiesselbach |
Winter Reeds Stepfather |
Paul Gibbons |
My Mother is Two Birds, One Falling |
Yago Said Cura |
My Mother, Naptha Scorpio in Retrograde |
Sylva Fischerova |
Near the Bottom Eggs, Newspaper, and Coffee |
Judith Taylor |
Sex Libris |
Beckian Fritz Goldberg |
Red Monsoon Glow-in-the-Dark Gecko |
Ellen Dore Watson |
Funny Rib(Cage) |
Thorpe Moeckel |
Lines from the Chalkbox |
David Dodd Lee |
North of Virginia |
David Hellman |
The View |
Marilyn A. Johnson |
The Typing Pool Ash to Ash |
Richard Robbins |
Wrestler New York Mountain Daylight Time: The Home Movie |
Elizabeth Bradfield |
The Third Reich Claims Neu Schwabenland--1939 Mr. Wilson's Specimens |
William Winfield Wright |
Musee de Ton Visage |
Meredith Cole |
Daisies |
J. W. Marshall |
Taken With Comes To Do You |
Angela Ball |
Someone is Messing Up the
Roses Bone |
Ellen Wehle |
Night Kitchen in Two Voices Eighteen |
Carol Potter |
M Dutiful |
Like the first three notes
first three crows, then
a swirl, the flock descends
on the field behind the restaurant
where the line cook waits
for his shift, his head
a dark hollow, a slow roar
moving through it. The dull eyes
of the hostess encompass him
and he sits in the vacuum of them,
leans forward, tries
to blow smoke rings--and yes
he is in love with her
and no she doesn't
know it--and she stares
at the slow smoke-knots falling
from his mouth. The streetlights
pop on, flicker, sizzle like
kitchens. The freeway
picks up speed until the town's
lurching forward catches
on its ragged lip, and for
a moment they follow the
smoke's unravel and clear
rise but this is not that,
this is waiting, enduring,
the crows taking root
in the field, absences
in an absence, bent grass
and behind it: leaf-rattle, a shiver
or a yawn from which
the slow freeze knowledge
of winter approaches.
--Tim Ross
Says Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Also
Deranging the vases and tangling the tables.
This is why most major cities
Have a Museum of Sex
But the exhibits never rotate
And no one has ever explained the great fog
Of nineteen fifty-two. Why, inexplicably,
Our neighbor has carted off all his belongings
Except for some loose twigs; why,
Though they are health conscious,
Our aging equestrians must settle for
The gentlest of mounts; why soon
They are reduced to taking advice
And energetic medicines.
No one is messing up the manor
This morning. The yearlings are at grass.
Roses make roses, and someone sweeps
The petals into bags for a wedding.
There is order like that of an ancient
Woolworth's with its tiers of bright candy
In front and its city of parakeets at the back
Next to the unobtrusive
Two-way mirror, where the young, acne-scarred
Manager keeps watch
On his own disorder
Of impossible women.
--Angela Ball