Nothing Here is Enough
I need veiled eyelids, black lines, and ruined puppets to make geography. I need a sky wider than longing, and water that is not H2O to make wings. More
The War Works Hard
How magnificent the war is! How eager and efficient! Early in the morning it wakes up the sirens and dispatches ambulances to various places swings corpses through the air rolls stretchers to the wounded summons rain from the eyes… More
Greeting, Slippage, and Shaping
As someone specifically interested in the translation of poetry, of the free verse variety, I will come down squarely on the side of occasional long shots, slippages into the… More
Poems (1945-1971)
The CanaryThey stood him where the harshest wind blowsthey promised him to the froststhey gave him a black dressand a red tiea nail-punctured sun that drippedblack glassesblood… More
Miltos Sachtouris: The Soldier
The SoldierI have written no poemsin thudsin thudsmy life rolledOne day I trembledthe next day I shudderedin fearin fearmy life passedI have written no poemsI have written no poemsI… More
The Clean Shirt of It: Selected Poems
Prior EveningDeath waits in the insignificance of a plum tart.In the remote darkness of the fridge,it slumbers lightly, immersed in custard.The hour is sluggish. The house sleeps unabridged.All night… More
“At sunrise I arose . . .”
At sunrise I aroseTo the sound the machine animals makepassing by in the streets over headsWas it briefly interminable orinterminably brief or bothIt was the face ever undone by… More
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