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Alin Marin Elena's

Republic of Numbers and Letters
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Charles Simic

alberto giacometti

Louis MacNeice

belle and Sebastian

gagarin

tar

van der graaf generator

daily

romanian

english

legend

camera obscura

supercomputing

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oscar

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le questionnaire de proust

creative sciences

francois mitterrand

sale

farmers

libido

malawi

hello

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diet

hazards

dragasani

ebay fraud

dor-de-munca

games

minicity

gorillas

missionary position

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Marin Sorescu

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Craiova

cotidian

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bbc

kde

flash

opensuse

dilema veche

nokia

yellow smiley face

academia life

Intimate monologues

many shades of blue

dart poetry

fabrizio de andrè

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Philip Larkin

uk ellections 2010

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intel. dogs

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ernesto sabato

makine

reading

google calendar

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philip glass

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vinicio capossela

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dublin

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be free think!!!

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Brian Patten

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arcade fire

John Grant

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henry moore

Murray Lachlan Young

crowd wisdom

Pier Paolo Pasolini

if not

Andrei Voznesensky

Marché Aux Puces

Tessimond

Camillo Sbarbero

Giuseppe Ungaretti


By: Alin Marin | February 04, 2011

by Brian Patten

It is absurd not knowing
where to go.

You wear the streets like an overcoat.
Certain houses are friends, certain houses
Can no longer be visited.
Old love-affairs lurk in doorways, behind windows
Women grow older. Neglection blossoms.

You have turned down numerous invitations,
Left the telephones unanswered, said 'No'
To the few that needed you.
Stranded on an island of your own invention
You have thrown out messages, longings.

How useless it is knowing that where you want to go
Is nowhere concrete.
The trains will not take you there,
The red buses glide past without stopping,

No taxis are available.

in Collected Love Poems, at Harper Perennial, 2007

Category: daily 

Tags: Brian Patten 

By: Alin Marin | February 04, 2011

by Brian Patten

Remember the hibiscus we planted last spring?
Well, it flowered.
There is no other news.

in Collected Love Poems, at Harper Perennial, 2007

Category: daily 

Tags: Brian Patten 

By: Alin Marin | January 27, 2011

by Brian Patten

When she wakes up drenched from her sleep
She will not ask you to be saturated by the light
Nor carolled by the morning's squabbling birds,
Nor lying in his arms wish him repeat
The polite conversations already heard;
She'll not be loved by roses but by men,
She will glide free of sweet beauty's net
And all her senses open out
To receive each sensation for herself.
If I could be that real, that open now,
And not by half a light half lit
I would not gossip of what is beauty and what is not
Nor reduce love to a freak poem in the dark.

in Collected Love Poems, at Harper Perennial, 2007

Category: daily 

Tags: Brian Patten 

By: Alin Marin | January 25, 2011

by Brian Patten

When the face you swore never to forget
Can no longer be remembered,
When a list of regrets are torn up and thrown away
Then the hurt fades,
And you think you've grown strong.
And you sit in bars and boast to yourself,
'Never again will I be vulnerable,
It was an aberration to be so open,
A folly never to be repeated.'
How absurd and fragile such promises.
Hidden from you, crouched
Among the longings you have suppressed
And the desires you have tamed,
A sweet pain waits in ambush.
And there will come a day when in a field
Heaven's mouth gapes open,
And on a web the shadow
Of a marigold will smoulder.
Then without warning,
Without a shred of comfort,
Emotions you thought had been put aside
Will flare up within you and bleed you of reason.
The rout...

Category: daily 

Tags: Brian Patten 

By: Alin Marin | January 12, 2011

by Brian Patten

You ask for a poem.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You say it is not good enough.
You ask for a poem.

I say this blade of grass will do.
It has dressed itself in frost,
It is more immediate
Than any image of my making.

You say it is not a poem,
It is a blade of grass and grass
Is not quite good enough.
I offer you a blade of grass.

You are indignant.
You say it is too easy to offer grass.
It is absurd.
Anyone can offer a blade of grass.

You ask for a poem.
And so I write you a tragedy about
How a blade of grass
Becomes more and more difficult to offer,

And about how as you grow older
A blade of grass
Becomes more difficult to accept.

in Collected Love Poems, at Harper Perennial, 2007

Category: daily 

Tags: Brian Patten