Oliver de la Paz
How do you advise a reader to approach these new poems? With a dictionary? A suspended sense of reality? A bit of history? Now is you chance to speak to readers who find this kind of work foreign.
Imagine that each poem is a postcard written in secret to someone whom you love and loathe in equal measure.
This is your atoll. Reef crumbles to the touch. The artist paces along the beaches here, and you've loved her for awhile—delicate and glittering. She walks back and forth talking to herself and finds, trapped in a tide pool, a small jellyfish.
Now that Paris, its cobbles and effigies,
And fog and roofs are far enough from my eyes;
Now that I'm beneath the boughs of trees,
And I can muse on the beauty of the skies;
Video of the week
Audio of the week
Topical poem image: Town With Tumbledown Bridge, drawing by Victor Hugo