Hvedekorn 4-2018 - omslag uden tekst
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Hvedekorns amerikanske fætter er et Zen Monster

Dansk poesis korrespondent i Amerika, Naja Marie Aidt, har sendt os et vildt, amerikansk tidsskrift for “art poetry fiction & subversive political commentary” ved navn Zen Monster, som hun særdeles cool selv bidrager til med engelske oversættelser (ved Susanna Nied) af tre digte fra samlingen Alting blinker. Det første begynder sådan her:

you say that Bedford still holds as a concept that the big apple too has a core   I don’t know   I go in and lay down   one can stand in a gallery with a sour drink in one’s hand   have a crush on a handsome man   one can   one can never get tired of the Brooklyn Bridge   I’m lying down   I’ve lain down   it’s true   that the magnolia was in bloom and now it’s not   that there’s a bar around the corner   that I like the sunset from the west-facing window   that things penetrate deeper deeper and stay there   or no   are laid down helter skelter over old experiences memories   suddenly something that happened last summer has become memories   it’s true that I never get tired of coming up into the glare of the street, up from the subway’s humid darkness   never get tired of glare and humid darkness   never get tired of the red plush bar where the women are so svelte   where the waiter has a grand piano tattooed on his hand   I’ve lain down and gotten up and now I’m lying down

Hvilket lyder dybt overbevisende amerikansk najask!

Ved Hvedekornsoplæsningen 22. november oplæste jeg to andre tekster fra nummeret.  Den ene er skrevet af Iulia Anghelescu, der præsenteres sådan her:

IA is a nomadic poet. This issue of Zen Monster marks the first publication of her work. iulia was born in Romania, was a refugee in France, an immigrant in New York, lived in China, India, and Colombia, and at present does her writing in Berlin.

the Now-child’s meal

in a wooden spoon, the child’s meal is served in thirteen courses:

1. warfare, served liquid for quicker digestion
2. sauteéd eye-lids previously emptied of eyes
3. organic obedience preserved in its own fat
4. a map of the future cooked in fairy tale
5. prudence stuffed with glazed rules (somehow kids loathe this particular dish)
6. oyster-shells previously emptied of oysters (to develop pearl-envy)
7. square bull-balls, unsweetened
8. love-skin boiled in jelly

poor parents have no choice but to serve the rest

9. ambition cooked in reduced hopes (a fashionable dish)
10. boned hearts (served warm or cold, accordingly)
11. stuffed pockets (which often have an after taste of responsibility)
12. moral cookies served hot, covered with two ice-cream bullets:
punishment and carrot

13. decaffeinated coffee made of sleeping pills

the most hungry eat the wooden spoon;
(to general outrage)
and eventually end up composing their own menu.

Den anden tekst er et digt af den amerikanske beatdigter Diane di Prima (født 1934)

The Nature of Inspiration
for Philip Whalen

It said.
I read.

It said.
I found
the back of
an envelope
& wrote
It down

now Type
It told me
Fuck off
I answered

said   then
I’m going

you later

- all right, magazine kollega, lad os parallelt carry on!

skrevet den 27/11/11 del på: facebook// twitter// email//

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Forside og billedkunst i Hvedekorn 4 2018: Kirsten Justesen. Hvedekorn er støttet af Statens Kunstfond hvedekorn.dk af One Million Monkeys