adda man ketdi ipabasak, adda man intay' basaen a daniw. warning: not for the "faint-hearted" wenno "faint-brained" ketdi daytoy a piesa. ta inna ikalkalintegan ti yot. manen, saan a para kadagiti naselan wenno namikki.


by Kim Addonizio

There are people who will tell you
that using the word fuck in a poem
indicates a serious lapse
of taste, or imagination,

or both. It’s vulgar,
indecorous, an obscenity
that crashes down like an anvil
falling through a skylight

to land on a restaurant table,
on th white linen, the cut-glass vase of lilacs.
But if you were sitting
over coffee when the metal

hit your saucer like a missile,
wouldn’t that be the first thing
you’d say? Wouldn’t you leap back
shouting, or at least thinking it,

over and over, bell-note riotously clanging
in the church of your brain
while the solicitous waiter
led you away, wouldn’t you prop

your shaking elbows on the bar
and order your first drink in months,
telling yourself you were lucky
to be alive? And if you wouldn’t

say anything but Mercy or Oh my
or Land sakes, well then
I don’t want to know you anyway
and I don’t give a fuck what you think

of my poem. The world is divided
into those whose opinions matter
and those who will never have
a clue, and if you knew

which one you were I could talk
to you, and tell you that sometimes
there’s only one word that means
what you need it to mean, the way

there’s only one person
when you first fall in love,
or one infant’s cry that calls forth
the burning milk, one name

that you pray to when prayer
is what’s left to you. I’m saying
in the beginning was the word
and it was good, it meant one human

entering another and it’s still
what I love, the word made
flesh. Fuck me, I say to the one
whose lovely body I want close,

and as we fuck I know it’s holy,
a psalm, a hymn, a hammer
ringing down on an anvil,
forging a whole new world.

fyi, ni kim addonizio, americana, ket maysa a babai. maysa a babai a mannaniw ken novelista. premiado a mannaniw ken mannurat. saan la a dayta, maysa pay nga iskolar ken profesora iti literatura.

fucking good poet!

3 makuna:

idi 1:37 p. m., mayo 31, 2006, Blogger ariel nakunana...

this is great! apay koma no ipatarusmo?

impataruskon ti 'saritaan ti uki'--ti vagina monologues ni even ensler ket naiparangen idiay Honolulu ti excerptna. sursuratek ita ti 'saritaan ti buto'.

adda daytoy iti blogko--fyi para kadagiti readers mo a saan a namikki kadagitoy a bambanag ken nalawa/g ti panagpampanunotda.

idi 6:52 p. m., junio 04, 2006, Blogger rva nakunana...

mang ariel, nabasakon ti adu a paset ti patarusmo iti "saritaan ti uki." fucking good! ad-adda a naawatak ti im-impen ken revolucion dagiti uki idi nabasak ti patarusmo ngem iti orihimal ni ensler.

sumagkamayat man ket ngatan ti "saritaan ti buro." ta orihinalmo daytoy.

agbiag ngarud dagiti uki ken buto!

idi 9:01 a. m., junio 20, 2006, Blogger ariel nakunana...

ala wen, igaedtayo ngarud tapno no maituloy ti pannakawayawaya ti 'faint-brained' a nakem dagiti kapada a mannurat a nakalipaten iti namunganayan a daga ken yot. ngem kunami idiay Laoag, 'iyot'. variant, kunada iti linguistics no ti maysa nga idea ket agadmitir iti sabasabali a termino, i.e., yot, iyot. ala, ania ngata no ibaludda dagiti kas kadata salawasaw, adda ngata makaduata? agbirokta man ketdi! agisem-isemak ita, kunam sa!


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