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Homero Aridjis
Translated from the Spanish by George McWhirter
(After Kafka)
If you could be a horseman riding
bareback through the winds and rains
on a transparent horse
constantly buffeted
by the velocity of your mount
if you could ride hard
until your clothes were cast off far behind you
because there is no need of clothes
until reins were done with
because there is no need of reins
until your shadow was cast far behind you.
because there's no need of a shadow
and then you might see countryside not as countryside
but a fistful of air
if only you could cast the horse far behind you
and ride on, on yourself



El Deseo de Ser Uno Mismo
(Desde Kafka)

Si uno pudiera ser un jinete cabalgando
a pelo sobre un caballo transparente
a través de vientos y de lluvias
constantemente sacudido
por la velocidad de la cabalgadura
si uno pudiera cabalgar intensamente
hasta arrojar lejos de sí las ropas
porque no hacen falta las ropas
hasta deshacerse de las riendas
porque no hacen falta las riendas
hasta arrojar lejos de sí la sombra
porque no hace falta la sombra
y así viera que el campo no es campo
sino puñado de aire
si uno pudiera arrojar lejos de si el caballo
y cabalgar solo sobre sí mismo
from the book SELF-PORTRAIT IN THE ZONE OF SILENCE / New Directions
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"Interview with Sarah Audsley"

"I enjoy visiting cities and being an interloper in city life, but I will always choose to live in a rural place. Walking my dog three times a day, cross country skiing in the winter, and hiking in the mountains in the summer, offsets all the daily computer grind. I like to think, too, that it feeds the work. To put it in another way, I’m a better poet if I’ve spent some time outside noticing and moving in the woods. The natural world offers me a sense of belonging."

via FOUR WAY REVIEW
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What Sparks Poetry:
Sean Hill on "Lake Sturgeon"


"The skin my fingers lightly brush is brown, is rough, is wet; I’m touching a lake sturgeon. I’m leaning against the edge of a touch pool at the Great Lakes Aquarium in Duluth, Minnesota with my hand immersed in water well above my wrist. This was in the late aughts when I lived in Bemidji, a small town in north central Minnesota, and my parents were visiting from Georgia, and we’d decided as close as they were, they should see Lake Superior."
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