[poem] This week I will plunge into poetry collections. I have a whole heap, and they come from different cities and different eras, and many I have got cheap, cheap, cheap on the hall, and they lie in a heap at home with me. And I throw myself at them and they receive me and get hold of what is not there today. It is so that when you have read too many documents and too many related issues you need it to dissolve, flutter, that words do not link in the same way anymore, and you do not need to understand everything but that the way words are put together seems more than words in themselves, you do not realize that I do not fully understand how to say this, right?
Top of the pile: Debutantane. Musicians Karl Seglem say poetry page / collection of words STILLA IS A AKER fifty poems and several songs. I am not sure if I like everything, but I like something, I like this: «Jotunheimen / a gigantic clock flock energy / jotnane where the jotnane is / Coltrane / wholeheartedly / out of madness / with his own journey / hundred years of his heartbeat / on conscience / the pinnacle stretches / sings / peaks stretches / it pits / it pours all the way here ».
Maybe because I like Jotunheimen, and maybe because I long for the west I like this: "the reflex dangling / with the November evening / the body over rima oil gravel / moon / with its whole / sun half / in the sea / west most west / west most."
Another poetry debutant, Thomas Marco Blatt, is also good to land with, he has a completely different language in This is how I want to measure the world, and I think I like it better, without me. . .
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