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    Tomaz Salamun - Four Poems

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    Stéphane Chabrières
    This poem discusses various abstract and surreal images and ideas in a stream-of-consciousness style, including girls lying down, tearing oneself from a chain, passing a night on a sieve, shuddering in bindweed, the smell of lemons and ears, and trodding on rice and a person. It also references taking a wheelbarrow and washing words, watching who takes and goes to showers, and being saved by certain people from professional crazes and dullness. The poem explores many cryptic and ambiguous concepts and scenarios in just a few short lines.

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    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd

    Tomaz Salamun - Four Poems

    Uploaded by

    Stéphane Chabrières
    332 views4 pages
    This poem discusses various abstract and surreal images and ideas in a stream-of-consciousness style, including girls lying down, tearing oneself from a chain, passing a night on a sieve, shuddering in bindweed, the smell of lemons and ears, and trodding on rice and a person. It also references taking a wheelbarrow and washing words, watching who takes and goes to showers, and being saved by certain people from professional crazes and dullness. The poem explores many cryptic and ambiguous concepts and scenarios in just a few short lines.

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    Tomaz Salamun - Four Poems

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    This poem discusses various abstract and surreal images and ideas in a stream-of-consciousness style, including girls lying down, tearing oneself from a chain, passing a night on a sieve, shuddering in bindweed, the smell of lemons and ears, and trodding on rice and a person. It also references taking a wheelbarrow and washing words, watching who takes and goes to showers, and being saved by certain people from professional crazes and dullness. The poem explores many cryptic and ambiguous concepts and scenarios in just a few short lines.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    332 views4 pages

    Tomaz Salamun - Four Poems

    Uploaded by

    Stéphane Chabrières
    This poem discusses various abstract and surreal images and ideas in a stream-of-consciousness style, including girls lying down, tearing oneself from a chain, passing a night on a sieve, shuddering in bindweed, the smell of lemons and ears, and trodding on rice and a person. It also references taking a wheelbarrow and washing words, watching who takes and goes to showers, and being saved by certain people from professional crazes and dullness. The poem explores many cryptic and ambiguous concepts and scenarios in just a few short lines.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    of 4

    WELL CA LMLY SWALLO W THIS

    TOMA ALAMUN

    They dont know what theyre doing.


    Girls remain lying.

    Youre rabid.
    The papyrus breath.

    When you tear yourself away from the chain,


    do you still sense saltiness?

    I passed the night on the sieve.


    Below the grill there were eyes and water.

    Little cloths, with them you mopped


    the tigers front, where are the temples from?

    The poodle has built himself the wooden shack


    and leveled it with his right leg.

    I shudder in the bindweed.


    The bindweed overgrew my shoulder.

    Translated from the Slovenian by Michael Taren and the author


    EYES ARE DEEPER THAN P LANTS

    It smells lemons here,


    it smells your ears. The cast

    iron. Nachtigal. Therere cathedrals.


    The gutter unstitches. I walk

    on the nib of the sky


    and clap. The gutter inclines

    to the smooth ground.


    Let the frog use the axis. In Moscow

    I trod on rice and Dragomoschenko.


    You know what, you know what,

    undress the direction. Dont walk


    barefoot in the palace. The grass is

    viscid. I was thrown into the capital


    to mask my parachute, docker.

    Translated from the Slovenian by Michael Taren and the author


    THE SHORE, THE CREEK

    Lord, these are little bags, these are little hammers,


    and these are little hammers again. This is

    not even Merz, this is Merzs wife. A fat


    boa constrictor - or horned viper - with a black

    baseball cap sliding across the coppice,


    she creeps like a trill. Like mad I wait

    for the evening. It swallows the straw, the hair,


    the bugs each time at Pomeranie with its

    hinterland. The bushel thrives. Ethanol


    falls. Bard dies. Brown becomes the most

    interesting. In La Paz, did that poet really have


    the cut off human leg beneath his bed? Where did

    he put it later? Was it taken away? Did Lorca wake up


    in Spicers jaw beneath the palate behind his teeth?

    Translated from the Slovenian by Thomas Taren and the author


    I TOOK A WHEELBA RROW

    I took a wheelbarrow, washed the words.


    I watched who was taking the shower, who

    went to the shower. Students of the Academy of


    Visual arts in Ljubljana have their models put in

    underwear. Obviously curators invaded this place


    too. What dull monas! Puffed up blockheads,

    forty years of terror. On Kawara and me were


    something else. Michael Heizer and me were

    something else. What a luck to be saved by


    Ferlinghetti and my instinct. And gracious women

    in Rome, too. What a deluxe pompous asses,


    I cant believe this professional craze. Darlings,

    youre entrapped in horrible dullness, already


    forty years producing vapid salons from Duchamps.

    Translated from the Slovenian by Michael Taren and the author

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