Ok, here's a Denis Johnson poem -- one of his more formal pieces,
although as a rule he tends to write in free verse.
SWAY
Since I find you will no longer love,
from bar to bar in terror I shall move
past Forty-third and Halsted, Twenty-fourth
and Roosevelt where fire-gutted cars,
their bones the bones of coyote and hyena,
suffer the light from the wrestling arena
to fall all over them. And what they say
blends in the tarantellasmic sway
of all of us between the two of these:
harmony and divergence,
their sad story of harmony and divergence,
the story that begins
'I did not know who she was'
and ends 'I did not know who she was.'
(from 'The Incognito Lounge' volume).
I've only ever seen import copies of his fiction here in the UK,
never any of his poetry.
Andy
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
|