MARINE
The bad ocean
throbs, watched
moonfully from On High
in smooth flotation
A sonorous sky flash
bent sinister
reorganizes the conflict
Gods against Gods
The waves reflect a battle
that is weightless
it is 3:30
the wind a shining rave
The sky has firmament also
and your eye a hurricane
you learn what to love, meditations
during disaster
SPLEEN
The horses are all dead
meaning the hay will stay uneaten
unlike some plums, your head turns
despair on its bloomed head
What is the sky too blue for
compared to what?
a precedented and grumpy flight might
satisfy
our true home, the woods!
are also finite and all there is to do is read
and write ecstatically to New York
publishers of the age
Dustin Junkert started writing in order to impress girls. Most girls aren’t all that impressed by writing, he has found. But here’s hoping. Dustin lives in Portland, OR. He recently had an essay published in the New York Times, and poems in The Journal, South Carolina Review, the minnesota review, Weber, Georgetown Review, GW Review and New Delta Review.
“These translations are quite liberal, in fact it might be more proper to say “after Verlaine” rather than calling them translations. That all depends on what you look for in a translation: accuracy or magic. I agree with Salman Rushdie that ‘something can always be gained in translation, something of the world of the translator rubbing on the world of the author.’ “
