Brian Docherty

World View

Boredom rusts my mouth, shrivels my tongue.
The food never varies; I mark off my days
by the menu I have never been offered.
The supplements announce who is on duty.

I can smell my own body, the drains,
boiled vegetables, leather and dogs.
The man who hung himself 20 meals ago is
still with us, a wreath of quicklime.

My skin, my clothes, this floor, these walls, are
all I have touched for too long.
A book, a woman’s skin, a glass of wine, are
things I have given up longing for.

All night I hear men moaning, pipes banging,
lorries and trains in the distance.
If I had a watch, I could set it by them. In
the early hours they stop for a while.

The high window is a wonky camera
framing birds, clouds, kites, planes.
I never see other people except through
the smoky mirror of memory.

Teofana Trapcea

Brian Docherty

Vedere spre lume

Plictiseala imi cocleste gura, imi usuca limba.
Hrana e mereu aceeasi, scad zilele
dupa portiile de care n-am avut parte.
Suplimentele ne dau de stire cine e de jurna.

Simt mirosul corpului, canalizarii
legumelor fierte, pielii , cainilor.
Omul care s-a spanzurat acum 2o de pranzuri
E inca cu noi, coroana de var nestins.

E prea multa vreme de cand n-am atins decat
Propria piele, hainele, podeaua asta, peretii astia.
Am renuntat sa mai tanjesc dupa
O carte, un pahar de vin, atingerea unei femei.

Toata noaptea aud barbati gemand, tevi lovite,
sunet de camioane si trenuri in departare.
Mi-as putea potrivi ceasul dupa ele
daca as avea unul. In zori se opresc pentru o vreme.

Fereastra de sus e o camera de luat vederi suie
care prinde in cadru pasari, nori, zmeie , avioane.
Niciodata nu vad alti oameni
decat prin oglinda cetoasa a amintirii.