We both tried something new this week, so tune in with a nice warm red for some foreign languages and new styles!
Poetry by Jacquie Burckley in the style of Aimee Nezhukumatathil:
The Future Is Slimy
I’m tired of all the pleasantries; Mister Doctor This and Big Smile That. There will be no Good Mornings when we backwards evolve into slime beings. With love, D.
Ring of Tree
Rings of a tree to stains in a cup. Turn your
cheek to the malice and treachery. Time here
and gone leaves behind its branding, and to cut
or wash erases all memory.
Is There Life After Death?
A little boy told me there is and that he saw a face and
that the face smiled at him, but do we believe the word
of a little boy who thinks girls have cooties? Yes, yes
of course we are. Kids know what they see and they
know what they know and by His grace we see His
work through them. Are two billion people wrong?
Two billion people are wrong? Two billion people are wrong.
Poetry by Chrissy Schreiber in the style of Jacques Prévert in English and French.
The Brown Cow
A cow wanders through the meadow
Crushes grass under him
Our hope rises
And the moon too
La Vache Brune
Une vache se promène dans le pré
Le pâturage écrase sous lui
notre espoir augmente
Et la lune aussi
The Mountain
Billions and billions of moments
Will never be enough to describe
To say
The deep ache of intensity
When you loved me
When I loved you
Each evening in the moonlight
In our flat in Paris
In Paris
On the Rue Lepic
The summit of the city of lights
La Montagne
Des milliards et des milliards des moments
Ne seront jamais assez pour décrire
Pour dire
La profonde douleur d’intensité
Quand tu m’as aimé
Quand je t’ai aimé
Chaque soir au clair de lune
Dan notre appartement à Paris
à Paris
Sur la Rue Lepic
La sommet de la ville lumière
Paris at Night
Five fingertips to trace your outline
The first two to feel your shoulders
The second two to feel your waist
The last to feel your lips
And the other hand to hold your cheek, your legs, your hair
While sleeping – though we sleep very little
Paris à Nuit
Cinq bout des doigts pour tracer votre silhouette
Le premier deux pour ressentir tes épaules
La deuxième deux pour ressentir ta taille
Le dernier pour ressentir tes lèvres
Et l’autre main pour tenir ta joue, tes jambes, tes cheveux
En dormant – bien que nous dormions très peu
(Read) Between the Vines 