pome for Barbara Be My Guest

POEM
Eating Chocolate Ice Cream: Reading Mayakovsky

by Barbara Guest


Since I’ve decided to revolutionize my life
since
”
decided
”
revolutionize
”
life
”

How early it is! It is eight o’clock in the morning.
Well, the pigeons were up earlier
Did you eat all your egg?
Now we shall go for a long walk.
Now? There is too much winter.
I am going to admire the snow on your coat.
Time for hot soup, already?
You have worked for three solid hours.
I have written forty-eight, no forty-nine,
no fifty-one poems.
How many states are there?
I cannot remember what is uniting America.
It is then time for your nap.
What a lovely, pleasant dream I just had.
But I like waking up better.
I do admire reality like snow on my coat.
Would you take cream or lemon in your tea?
No sugar?
And no cigarettes.
Daytime is good, but evening is better.
I do like our evening discussions.
Yesterday we talked about Kant.
Today let’s think about Hegel.
In another week we shall have reached Marx.
Goody.
Life is a joy if one has industrious hands.
Supper? Stew and well-cooked. Delicious.
Well, perhaps just one more glass of milk.
Nine o’clock! Bath time!
Soap and a clean rough towel.
Bedtime!
The Red Army is marching tonight.
They shall march through my dreams
in their new shiny leather boots,
their freshly laundered shirts.
All those ugly stains of caviar and champagne
and kisses
have been rubbed away.
They are going to the barracks.
They are answering hundreds of pink
and yellow and blue and white telephones.
How happy and contented and well-fed they look
lounging on their fur divans,
chanting, “Russia how kind you are to us.
How kind you are to everybody.
We want to live forever.”
Before I wake up they will throw away
their pistols, and magically
factories will spring up where once
there was rifle fire, a roulette factory,
where once a body fell from an open window.
Hurry dear dream
I am waiting for you
under the eiderdown.
And tomorrow will be more real, perhaps,
than yesterday.

---------------------------------------------------------
Translation


Eating Baked Chicken With Rosmarie Waldrop

by Clip Molina


Since I've decided not to revolutionize my life
since

undecided

revolutionize

life


How late it is! 8 o'clock in the morning.
Well, the cat and rabbit were asleep earlier
Did you eat all your chicken soup?
Now we won't have to go for a long walk.
Later? There's not enough winter.
I won't admire the snow on your coat.
Time for cold soup, not yet?
You've worked for 3 hollow hours.
I didn't write 84, 94,
no 51 poems.
How many states are there?
I forget what divides America.
It is then time for you to run around, go play.
What a terrible, terrifying daydream I just had.
Though I like living better.
I still don't admire reality as it melts on your coat.
Would you take cream or lemon or adderall in your tea?
No splenda?
And yes Parliaments.
Nighttime is good, but morning is better.
I do like our morning discussions.
Yesterday we laughed about Kant.
Today let's not think about Hegel.
Last week we shall have reached the Marx Brothers.
Goody. Hair flip. Holler.
Life is a joy if one has piano hands.
Breakfast? Pancakes and well burnt. Delicious.
Well, perhaps not more glass of milk.
Childhood o'clock! Time to Fuck!
Organic french soap and scrub gloves.
Wake up, sleepy head!
The Taliban is marching tonight.
They shall march through a dozen Hollywood movies
with their disdain for music,
pork and firecrackers.
All those beautiful Futurist blood stains and dehydration
and torture
have been cropped out.
They are going for the hills.
They aren't answering any phone calls
or checking emails or tagging photos on Facebook.
How hot and tired and un-comical they look
in a New York Times photo
not saying "America how funny you seem to us.
How you turn everything into celebrity.
We want to be famous too."
Before I wake up they will throw away
their suicide bombs, and magically
a virtual world will pop up where once
a finger was, a roulette game "generating literature",
where now angels fly from computer screen.
Hurry dear dream
I'm not really waiting for you but I will
under the goose down blanket from Bed Bath & Beyond.
And tomorrow will be even further from real, perhaps,
than today.