Friday, June 4, 2010


by Roberto Bolaño, trans. by D. Matus

Strange fair trade Dropping hair

and teeth The old ways of education

Wonder at complacency (The poet does not want

to be more than the others) Neither wealth nor fame

nor even poetry Maybe this is the only way

to have no fear Settle into fear

as one who lives in mediocrity

We all have ghosts Simply

waiting in the ruins for someone or something

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Street Poem 2

The homeless sleep

In bags on cement

Encampments in parks

Or hidden urban lairs

Flopped, behind bushes

Beneath stairwells

Cushioned by cardboard

Strewn bits of paper and

Other small trash

This Is The Honest Truth

by Roberto Bolaño, trans. by D. Matus

I grew up next to puritan rebels

I have been criticized helped pushed by heroes

of lyric poetry

and the seesaw of death.

I say my lyricism is DIFFERENT

(it has all been said but let me

add something more).

Swimming in the swamp of pretension

is for me like a mercury Acapulco

a fish blood Acapulco

a submarine Disneyland

Where I am happy with myself.