When you don't set out to write good poetry, you sometimes come up with good ones. Here are some samples I wrote when I tried my vintage typewriters (I'll put up photos later on). I don't really know if they are any good as poems, but there is something intriguing, something surrealistic about them.
The horribleness steps into the unknown river.
The eyes are looking at us.
We are prisoners and we don't know what explodes the eyes.
[This is my exercise in Federico Garcia Lorca.]
tambourine is playing
the Greekishness is spreading its wings
there are limits to being unknown
tambourine is playing in the dark night
it is the night of being European
[This is virtually untranslatable. At least I won't try. It's not really a poem.]
Sunday, February 24, 2008
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