Any Other Poems! (AOP)

[Caballo]

C. P. Cavafy: Nero’s Deadline





Nero wasn't troubled when he heard

the Delphic Oracle's prophecy.

'Let him beware the age of seventy-three.'

He still had time to enjoy himself.

He is thirty years old.

t's quite sufficient, the deadline that the god is giving him,

for him to think about dangers yet to come.


Now to Rome he'll be returning a little wearied by this trip,

which had been wholly devoted to days of delight-

in the theaters, in the gardens, the gymnasia...

Evenings of the cities of Achaea...

Ah, the pleasures of naked bodies above all...



So Nero. And in Spain, Galba

is secretly assembling his army and preparing it :

the old man, seventy-three years old.







Translated from the Greek by Daniel Mendelsohn

[Tasia]

Here is one I wrote a few years back. Hope you enjoy:



Ballad of Bucephalus and Alexander

It was a bright sunny morning when you found one another.
You were twelve years old, the pride of your father; he was just
a young stallion afraid of all that moved in his world.
There were many in the herd, but you picked him out immediately.
Perhaps it was the brilliance of his black coat, or perhaps,
that his head was shaped like that of an ox. It mattered not
to you that the others made fun of him. You knew he was
destined for the same greatness as yourself.

You watched the stallion and your father noted your interest.
He beckoned to another to catch the unruly sprite and
show off his paces. Rider after rider was thrown to the
ground and it was you, a twelve-year old boy, who realized
that the stallion was only afraid of his shadow.

Without a word you moved forward to grab the young horse.
Your father watched intently as the others around laughed
at your boldness. The horse snorted, blowing warm air across
your face. You took the reins gently and turned him into
the sun. In the blink of an eye you swung upon his back.
And so began the bond that no other could break.

Your father laughed aloud, so proud of his son! “Son, find
another Kingdom because Macedonia is too small for you!”
When asked what he was to be named you shouted out, “Bucephalus!”
Your father shook his head with a smile, knowing something
special had happened that day.

Though others could care for him, only you could ride.
Soon your adventures took you to far away lands. Among
them your trip to Gordium where you cut the Gordian Knot
as Bucephalus stood quietly by your side.

There were the battles of Granicus and Issus, Chaeronea and
Gaugamela. In all, Bucephalus carried you swiftly through
the hordes. There was no man, no cavalry horse that could
match your grace and speed. And when you rode, you were one.
Bucephalus fought as bravely as you.

At Jhelum, Bucephalus did not bolt when the trumpeting
elephants stormed forward. He held his ground and did his
best to keep you protected. As a soldier lashed out, he
maneuvered himself in between you and Death itself. But it
was Bucephalus who received death’s blow. In the frenzy
of the battle, Bucephalus carried on. It was not until
you reached camp that you saw the damage that had been done.

Bucephalus gave a brave front, but there was nothing your
doctors could do. He went to his knees and you cradled
his head. And as it had begun thirty years ago it ended,
with a warm breath across your face.

You had become Alexander the Great because of the love and
trust of an ox-headed horse. You gave Bucephalus a funeral
worthy of the most important member of State. In leading
the procession you declared that a city would be named to
honor the greatest of all horses.

And in your dreams, for many years later, you would ride
across green valleys on the back of Bucephalus who as
he had in life, so he did in death…never left your side.



Dedicated to the memory of Bucephalus, the greatest of all warhorses.

[Jona Lendering]

I am aware that some of you will think that the following is a joke, but I am serious. Donald Rumsfeld´s famous words, which make an important point about the limits of our knowledge, are an example of `found poetry´.

The Unknown
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.

Donald Rumsfeld

[Justin I]

dinosauria, we
by Charles Bukowski

Born like this
Into this
As the chalk faces smile
As Mrs. Death laughs
As the elevators break
As political landscapes dissolve
As the supermarket bag boy holds a college degree
As the oily fish spit out their oily prey
As the sun is masked
We are
Born like this
Into this
Into these carefully mad wars
Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
Into bars where people no longer speak to each other
Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings
Born into this
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it's cheaper to die
Into lawyers who charge so much it's cheaper to plead guilty
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes
Born into this
Walking and living through this
Dying because of this
Muted because of this
Castrated
Debauched
Disinherited
Because of this
Fooled by this
Used by this
Pissed on by this
Made crazy and sick by this
Made violent
Made inhuman
By this
The heart is blackened
The fingers reach for the throat
The gun
The knife
The bomb
The fingers reach toward an unresponsive god
The fingers reach for the bottle
The pill
The powder
We are born into this sorrowful deadliness
We are born into a government 60 years in debt
That soon will be unable to even pay the interest on that debt
And the banks will burn
Money will be useless
There will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
It will be guns and roving mobs
Land will be useless
Food will become a diminishing return
Nuclear power will be taken over by the many
Explosions will continually shake the earth
Radiated robot men will stalk each other
The rich and the chosen will watch from space platforms
Dante's Inferno will be made to look like a children's playground
The sun will not be seen and it will always be night
Trees will die
All vegetation will die
Radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
The sea will be poisoned
The lakes and rivers will vanish
Rain will be the new gold
The rotting bodies of men and animals will stink in the dark wind
The last few survivors will be overtaken by new and hideous diseases
And the space platforms will be destroyed by attrition
The petering out of supplies
The natural effect of general decay
And there will be the most beautiful silence never heard
Born out of that.
The sun still hidden there
Awaiting the next chapter.