News:
  • Intimate Streams: Nomadland, Pieces of a Woman, Supernova
  • A History of Asian Americans
  • I Am Not A Virus
  • The Third Line
  • LIFE AFTER MILKBONE
  • eating the gods
  • Contact us
  • About
    • What is Cultural Weekly?
    • Advertise
    • Contributors
    • Masthead
    • Subscribe
    • Submissions: Write for us
    • Cultural Weekly Style & Formatting Guide
  • Contact us
  • About
    • What is Cultural Weekly?
    • Advertise
    • Contributors
    • Masthead
    • Subscribe
    • Submissions: Write for us
    • Cultural Weekly Style & Formatting Guide
Cultural Weekly logo
  • Film
  • TV + Web
  • Poetry
  • Art
  • Architecture
  • Literature
  • Theatre
  • Music
  • Dance
  • Tech
  • Lifestyle
  • Food
  • Film
  • TV + Web
  • Poetry
  • Art
  • Architecture
  • Literature
  • Theatre
  • Music
  • Dance
  • Tech
  • Lifestyle
  • Food
Selected by Alexis Rhone Fancher, Poetry Editor

Mark Statman: Three Poems

By Mark Statman on July 1, 2020 in Poetry

Click Here To View Comments

el adios de siempre

the pins were dropping everywhere
as if
there was no future
to speak of anymore
that this was a circle
or a cube
or a glass jar
in which we’d put
some fireflies
or some sparks of stone
or a god
once worshipped

moved by the earth
and of it
our sadness
grows
lengthening
not so much like a dream
but a trial
by cold and wind
an enormous burden
someone has to carry
as a perfect fact
of what shouldn’t
happen in life

last century I
almost wanted to give up
thought maybe all my life
was coming apart

except it didn’t
and now it won’t
I can say that because
that’s what’s left
to believe
my belief is fear-proof
my fears can’t touch
our future

*

destination

this isn’t destiny the
way the word means though
destined might take us
all the way to the
mid-day meal
I think it
should be on the porch or
patio it’s good to
eat outside we’ll have
meat and tortillas someone
might have a mezcal or a
beer others lemonade
or water

can you believe
we live like this
is it what we were
coming to those years ago
in the plans though
not as I remember them

I remember sleepy towns
dusty towns as we
drank the beer the
mezcal I don’t
remember thinking
this is where I’m going

*

you should have seen

how all the
young girls were
dancing in a
circle together they
were
holding hands they
were
flowers or autumn they
were dancing in they with
each other
there
was no music
we could
see only how
their skirts
moved their
arms moved
their
bodies
moved they
were in
their own
circle their
own world
their own
lives they
trapped
us they
enchanted
us we
who
disappeared
in the
end

 

(Author photo by Katherine Koch; all poems under copyright 2019 Exile Home, Mark Statman and Diálogos Books.)

Click Here To View Comments

Tagsmark statmanpoemspoetry

Previous Story

LIFE AFTER BIRTH DRESSES FOR THE OCCASION

Next Story

Susan Hayden: “1971 Was A Bad Year For Certain People”

About the author

Mark Statman

Mark Statman

Mark Statman has written ten books, among them the poetry collections Exile Home (Lavender Ink, 2019), That Train Again (Lavender Ink, 2015), A Map of the Winds (Lavender Ink, 2013) and Tourist at a Miracle (Hanging Loose, 2010). His translations include Never Made in America: Selected Poetry of Martín Barea Mattos (Lavender Ink/diálogos, 2017), Black Tulips: The Selected Poems of José María Hinojosa (University of New Orleans Press, 2012), and, with Pablo Medina, Federico García Lorca’s Poet in New York (Grove 2008). Statman’s writing has appeared in eighteen anthologies, as well as such publications as New American Writing, Tin House, Tupelo Quarterly, Hanging Loose, Xavier Review, and American Poetry Review. A recipient of awards from the NEA and the National Writers Project, he is Emeritus Professor of Literary Studies at Eugene Lang College of Liberal Arts, The New School, and lives in San Pedro Ixtlahuaca and Oaxaca de Juárez, MX.

Related Posts

  • Tali Cohen Shabtai: Two Poems

    By Tali Cohen Shabtai
    I am new They don’t know Where I came...
  • Kelly Gray: Two Poems

    By Kelly Gray
    The Hush of a Switchblade Let me write...
  • Bura-Bari Nwilo: “This Is How I Have Imagined You”

    By Bura-Bari Nwilo
    This Is How I Have Imagined You   My...
  • They Write By Night: The One That Got Away

    By Suzanne Lummis
    He wears high-draped pants Stripes are...

Support Our Friends

Follow Us

Join Our Mailing List

Latest Tweets

Tweets by @CulturalWeekly

Comments

  • Lisa Segal Lisa Segal
    Valentine’s Day Redux: a Second Chance at True Love
    Marvelous!!!!!!!
    2/14/2021
  • maurice amiel maurice amiel
    Shakespeare on Despots, Power, and Finally… Transition
    Timely and educational this post Your scholarship...
    1/31/2021
  • maurice amiel maurice amiel
    Abigail Wee: “Growing Home”
    A first place well deserved While the particular...
    1/24/2021

New

  • Intimate Streams: Nomadland, Pieces of a Woman, Supernova
  • Is CBD Oil Safe for My Dog?
  • How to Add Texture to the Wall and the Wall Hangings for Decoration
  • A History of Asian Americans
  • I Am Not A Virus

Tags

art dance film Los Angeles music photography poem poems poetry tomorrow's voices today

Like us

Please Help

Donate

Who are we?

Cultural Weekly is a place to talk about our creative culture with passion, perspective and analysis – and more words than “thumbs up” or “thumbs down.” Our mission is to draw attention to our cultural environment, illuminate it, and make it ... read more

Site map

  • About
  • Advertise
  • Contact us
  • Contributors
  • Cultural Weekly Style & Formatting Guide
  • Food
  • Home
  • Masthead
  • Privacy Policy/Do Not Sell My Personal Information
  • Submission Form
  • Submissions: Write for us
  • Subscribe
  • Terms and Conditions
  • Thank You

Links

Adam Leipzig
Entertainment Media Partners
This Is Crowd
CreativeFuture
Plastic Oceans Foundation
Arts & Letters Daily
Alltop
Alexis Rhone Fancher
Jack Grapes
Ethan Bearman
Writ Large Press

Mailing List

* indicates required


  • Terms and Conditions
  • Privacy Policy/Do Not Sell My Personal Information
  • Contact us
Cultural Weekly is the digital magazine and public platform of Next Echo Foundation. DONATE HERE.
Copyright © 2010-2020 by Adam Leipzig. All Rights Reserved.