ROBERT DESNOS ~

Letter to Youki


My love,

Our suffering would be unbearable if we couldn't think of it as a passing and sentimental illness. Our rediscoveries will adorn our life for at least thirty years. As for me, I'm taking a deep drink of youth and I'll come back to you full of love and strength! During our separation a birthday, mine, was the occasion of a long fantasy about you. Will my letter reach you in time for your birthday? I would've liked to give you 100,000 American cigarettes, a dozen dresses from the great couturiers, an apartment on the Seine, a car, the cottage in the Compiegne forest, the one on Belle-Isle and a little four-sous bouquet. While I'm gone, keep flowers around all the time; I'll pay you back for them. All the rest, I promise it to you later.

But above all else, drink a bottle of good wine and think of me. I hope our friends won't forget to visit you that day. I thank them for their courage and devotion. About a week ago I got a package from J-L Barrault. Kiss him for me, and Madeleine Renaud too; the package is proof my letter got through. I haven't gotten an answer; I'm waiting for one every day. Kiss everyone in the family, Lucien, Aunt Juliet, Georges. If you run into Passeur's brother, give him my best and ask him if he knows anybody who can help you if you need it. What's happening with my books at the printer's? I've got a lot of ideas for poems and novels. I regret not having the freedom or the time to write them. But you can tell Gallimard that within three months after I get back he'll have the manuscript of a love story in an entirely new genre. I'm ending this letter for today.

Today, July 15th, I got four letters from Barrault, Julia, Dr. Benet and Daniel. Thank them apologize for me for not answering. I'm allowed only one letter a month. Still no word from you, but they send me news of you; that will be for the next time. I hope that letter is our life to come.

                                                                                     Robert

                                                                             Buchenwald


—————————
Robert Desnos
The Voice of Robert Desnos
(Selected Poems)
translated by William Kulik
The Sheep Meadow Press
2004

RAN BLAKE ~

BILL BATHURST ~ NEW FROM LONGHOUSE 2019 ~

~ Bill's long poem to Billie Holiday ~

written in 1967

published for the first time

Bill Bathurst

 Time On My Hands 

Longhouse, 2019

First edition

New and limited

A Longhouse limited edition 

two page foldout 

with decorative label 

Signed by the poet

Buy now ~

$15 

free shipping

with Paypal  

please use our email

poetry@sover.net

Check or money order ~

Longhouse

PO Box 2454

West Brattleboro, Vermont 

05303

GET 'ER DUN ~

WAGES OF FEAR (10) ~

eyes wide shut

ON THOMAS MERTON ~

Thomas Merton, looking younger each year,

in an undated photography in Kentucky

in front of his hermitage

R E A D      M E

A mainly Buddhist publisher took a chance on this

Catholic writer and her Catholic subject ~

you can as well.

A lovely addition to the Merton library.

Shambhala

Boulder

2018

TERRANCE HAYES / ETHERIDGE KNIGHT ~

I’m reading one more interesting book on an open field theory of poetry and its place, this time by Terrance Hayes and all about Etheridge Knight, a poet I followed closely for almost 50 years, in some ways reminding me of another I love Chester Himes, both ex-prisoners, a great deal of their work being done through the inmate and prison perspective. In other words, always a prisoner once out. Himes took off for Europe (like Baldwin) because of the outcast feeling; Knight took it out on himself with drugs, violence, even to his wives and partners etc., Sonia Sanchez was one, who continued to love him and was always an equal. Long ago I used to read to my all women students in the boarding school each winter “Feeling Fucked Up” one of the most liberated and celebratory poems from that era. The young women were startled then ( 80s ) at the freedom of language. “You can do that?” they’d ask. I told them they could do anything if it improved the page, taking that old saw one more step. Hayes catches the importance of all this time and writes well, including some sketchy loopy ink drawings that are perfect. 

Wave Books

 TO FLOAT IN THE SPACE BETWEEN

Terrance Hayes

KIM HYESOON ~

R E A D       M E

HEAVEN LAKE (18) ~

Book Lover

If looks could kill

then here it is —

the famous poet 

after his reading

meeting my wife

who is asking him

to sign his books

that mean next to

nothing to her and

they both know it

Bowling

knew it was

a strike

watching her

skirt twirl

Solution

Oh how fiery we are when angry

We carry on from room to room

Our son in school

The dog and cat fast asleep

From room to room

How fiery!

And right into bed

A.M. Report

Snow overnight —

Every bird at the feeder

Looks like a hobo

————————————

Bob Arnold

Heaven Lake

Longhouse 2018

ALICE OSWALD ~

A L I C E       O S W A L D

INGER CHRISTENSEN ~

R EA D     M E

New Directions

2018

YOU'RE HIRED ! ~

ANDY WARHOL, PUBLISHER ~

University of Chicago Press

2018

JONAS MEKAS ~

J O N A S    M E K A S

1922 ~ 2019

R E A D     M E

JAMES TATE ~

The Government Lake

BY JAMES TATE

          The way to the toy store was blocked by a fallen tree

in the road. There was a policeman directing traffic down a

side street. I asked him, “What happened?” He said, “Lightning

in the night.” I took the turn and drove down the street

looking for a way to turn back. Other streets were blocked by

fallen trees, and I couldn’t find a way back to the toy store.

I kept driving and soon I was on the outskirts of town. I

got on a highway and drove, soon forgetting the toy store and

what I was supposed to get there. I drove on as if I was hypno-

tized, not noticing the signs for turnoffs. I must have driven

a couple of hours before I woke up, then I took the next exit

and had no idea where I was. I drove down a straight tree-lined

lane with farm houses on either side. There was a lake at the

end of the lane. I pulled over and parked. I got out and

started walking. There were several docks along the shore.

I walked out on one and watched the ducks swimming and diving.

There was something bobbing in the middle of the lake. I stared

at it for a long time before I realized it was a man’s head.

Then, a moment later, it was a coconut. No, it was an old tire

floating right side up. I gave up and started following the

ducks. They would suddenly fly up and circle the lake and

come down and splash land again. It was quite entertaining.

A man walked up behind me and said, “This government lake is

off-limits to the public. You’ll have to leave.” I said,

“I didn’t know it was a government lake. Why should it be

off-limits?” He said, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to leave.”

“I don’t even know where I am,” I said. “You’ll still have

to leave,” he said. “What about that man out there?” I said,

pointing to the tire. “He’s dead,” he said. “No, he’s not.

I just saw him move his arm,” I said. He removed his pistol from

his holster and fired a shot. “Now he’s dead,” he said.

Source: Poetry (January 2019)

___________________________

JAMES TATE

The Government Lake

(Ecco, July 2019)

SHERPAS ~

HEAVEN LAKE (17) ~

After Work

Long day for us both

Field work hot sun

Resting later on

Taking off your boots for you

Then your socks

I can’t stop

More

walking out

from her bath

one lasting

water drop

between those

eyes

Folk Song

It was a Sunday morning

When we decided to chase

The freight train flat on the

New Mexican plain —

Straight and longly forever

It seemed like the barren

Road we were on, rails

Running  parallel,  sun

Rising, three locomotives

Strong — we all galloped —

And when we reached

Ahead and to a bend in the

Road we stopped and ran out

As close as we dared and

Almost better than the

Sight of the train itself

Felt the earth shake at

Its approach up and down

Like a planetary drum

This shooting star comes

Thundering over the rise —

A good man knowing a

Good thing when he sees

It waves to us with two

Blasts of his train whistle

Quivering and heart-filling

Like the best folk song

Housekeeping

what bedspread

what blanket

what cloth I

have watched her

hand spread smooth

with an elegance

felt

on my-

self

——————————

Bob Arnold

Heaven Lake

Longhouse 2018