Background noise

Poem By Hendrik Jackson

rain made for itself its sea and the sea its waves, clouds
swelled over the white spray of the sea - light tones -
and like dust on the tape track everything mixed in together
the voices, whispering, emerge from yesterday, from its
dead conversations, woven into the moiré of swelling
...sw...elling interference, whither the wind goes, whether it simply
whips up, whistles up, settles again, rises mild or light, rustles
like mistles or ash grey falls silent in grey - a hand movement
when as though after a long illness all simultaneities were to end
all squalls change tack reared up questions casually be raised

translated by Catherine Hales

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Other poems of JACKSON

Weather fields / freeze frame

I

draught up our sleeves from the side wind, tiredness suppressing
a few half words, we moved into the colder frost-air by the rear frontage
of a distant building, a couple among the houses, at night

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travels? voices? (buzzing wires) - on landing you looked: heavenwards
in flight perhaps you belonged to the inventory of the world, in the child's
eyes.

Soil

Moments of crystallization, flow with the day. Frost _ Inhale
again the dream collapses, overwhelmed from affections
inasmuch as the snow collects across dispersed, good days. As by
imprinting you pull yourself out from the earth, heavenly greetings

Note on Jonah

the word that does not come to pass -
and yet, we do not go into the immanence
of a big-bellied, dark, barely
discernible life, self within self

Picture Postcard to O.M.

I live within crumbling walls of medieval crudeness.
On the washing lines hang remnants of Slavic cloth.
No Hellenism warms me; the stoves here are fuelled
with low-grade coal; verily, ye horseshoe hangeth