I afton laddar jag upp med en stilla redovisning av Rattle Magazines ekfras-utmaning för januari månad.
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Bilden som deltagarna skulle skriva en inspirerad text till var den här gången denna:
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| "Days In San Francisco #1, 1984” by Harry Wilson |
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Förra utmaningen tyckte jag inte resulterade i särskilt märkvärdiga bidrag. Men den här gången gillade jag de båda vinnarbidragen, i synnerhet Harry Wilsons utvalda favoritdikt, skriven av Richard Manly Heiman.
A town of mirrors and quaking forty-fours, by Richard Manly Heiman
(Published in Rattle.com, february 2017.)
Tomorrows whirl along, they promenade
like pages ripped from too-brief years, before
their soft-shoe asphalt syncopations fade
down Geary to the Van Ness corridor.
The beats in Fillmore boom-boom, saxophones
uncurl and snake around a fog of nights.
And yesterdays? Don’t think about them—gone.
Like endless hours spent browsing City Lights.
Once, hungry fire raged through the Tenderloin.
The dead shipped south to Colma, out of sight.
Once, bitter Tong-blood soaked the urban groin,
and Carol’s boobs glared proud in neon light.
But now who thinks of Sutro’s on the sand,
or Playland at the Beach, or Winterland?
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Precis som tidigare så har Rattle-redaktionen valt ut en egen favorit. Det blev den här:
An accounting, by Joanna Preston
(Published in Rattle.com, february 2017.)
And the days spill like soot from a fireplace,
ash of them dusting skin.
Days hoarded like krugerrands.
Days transfixed, pinned
like beetles to the pages
of her clothes. Their passage a shuffle
of dried leaves, hoarse whisper
of an overdue bill. She plucks
unattended days out of the air
— hey presto and a shower of doves.
Days like confetti litter the streets.
Days like bankers litter the streets.
How they gather, the days. Haggard moths
to a lantern. Hungry mouths
to a soup canteen.
A paper boat of wasted days
unfolds in the gutter, forgets itself
in the rain.
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