how many times can you slip boston into a sentence
(y)o east coast graduates of
parsons the new school for dreams?
the B in BU stands for BUllshit does it not
my lovelies?

get extra roes for yer wafu casual japonaise pasta why dontcha
regale the tang dynasty queens lined in front of you with tales of batik prints
the lack of meaning of
in purwokerto, do they have nasi liwet?
kamu understand jawa-kah?

get bon to kill bill
pour hot water over and over a punching bag of nori-flavoured ocha
these mains are so big i can’t possibly finish them on my own!
let me help you then baby
mau aku suapin miniature baked eggplant-nya?

forget, ya forget

late afternoons on the verandah 

yr gedong besaran in salemba

au bon pain from yr favourite boulangerie alsatienne

passer baroe

see how the leather 

the backseat of your sado

is peeling 

like a thousand sails

forget everything

the proper spelling

the long letters you’ve been writing

the clipped, proper, eton v. harrow english 

yr boyfriend back at home away from home in den haag

kassian,

think about the future of this broad avenue

perhaps, 

75 years after the dissolution of yr volksraad

a couple of pribumis will walk along the crowded corner at its end

and, 

looking for an ancient ice cream parlour they’ve read so often in history books

find it closed for business

o,

the heat of late kemarau!

the pink paint on its wall 

the colour of washed out blood.

'i am not here!' 


ha you were never there

not in yr head Herman Neubronner

you lost it in a Rampokan Jawa 

                                                        some nautical miles off the margins of yr mind

skin the beast

chariot-break it

it’s one’s civilization that is always at stake

‘tis always 

                            at the stake

nothing grows under the waringin tree

and how many acres are the old king’s universe pinned and nailed like a queer at the old vic?

‘kari sak megare payung’

you’d understand that Herr man

instantly

you’d only hv to do a bit of comparative philology

swot on yr Old Kawi

and you’re all set

leave the old goat bleating under yr balé-balé

leave it to yr Balinese njai                            Gusti Dertik you freak

du du du 
           du du 
du du 
       du du
du du
    du du
du du

du du

semakin lama semakin susah menemuimu
di antara segala macam hiper-keisengan kota ini
bayangkan beratnya menahan godaan
memesan moja whopper dan curly cries
bayangkan susahnya tidak mencari-cari kelucuan 
pada baliho the kingdom dengan jennifer garner yang kelihatan seperti edward said

mmm-a-l is this too personal?

duluakuseringmelihatmudisepanjangjalancikiniraya
dengan pisau di pinggang dan frank o’hara
—lunch poems, edisi city lights
menyembul di kantong belakang celana khaki gombrongmu
kadang-kadang kau lemparkan pisau ke tengah jalan
dan ujungnya akan mencungkil sebongkah aspal
kadangkadangkadangkadangkadangkadangkal
-a kau coba paksakan membeli hotdog dan coklat malt
bersama hantu maïakovski dan segumpal awan di celana dalam
-mu

du 
    du du
du du

du du
    du du
du du
    du du

du du 

du du

this poem could be about you
this p-p-p-
             oem
could be about
             
             who

aku hanya bisa bergantung pada sekali-sekali
tersesat di sebuah restoran ye olde
di dalam ruangan famili yang kosong melompong
melihat ke pojok, dan: 
kursi kayu tua berpunggung rotan
koyak-moyak

(seperti sebuah set film hantu
yang benar-benar dihantui
dan ditinggal (mati) semua kru)

kau meringkuk di atas kursi itu 
mengambil ancang-ancang
menerkamku!

 mmm-a-l 
            is this
                too
                                                                                                                    

                                                                                                                     phanta
                                                                                                                               smal?

The sun like a gong

The gong scything the memory of your dreams

Your dreams contained within an umbrella

The umbrella opens its stem of roses

Roses are Fred, violets are Drew

Drew with the Indians, won against the Red Sox

The Red Sox of your concupiscence

Concupiscent as a plum blossom

A plum blossom parachuting in the East Wind

The East Wind hot as a eunuch’s breath

The breath as an instrument of meaning

Meaning like a drop shot into the net

The net of your existence

Existence as non-existence

As non-existent as the palm at the end of a cheese rind

The mind garrots through a delta, not the Irrawaddy

The Irrawaddy of a peace accord

Accord me the recognition as befits me, a neck of state

A state bordering on madness

Madness like a sewing machine

A sewing machine : the way you look at me

The way you look at me = a slab of granite

Granite, the infinity of your grit

The grit of the mill

The mill of the floss

The FLOSS of your heart

The heart as a factory

The factory pumping blood into the eddy

The eddy runs into the ocean

My ocean runs in your eddy

The Eddy Merckx of politics

Politics as vol de nuit

Le vol de nuit of Hitler’s ambition

The ambition knifing into you

You like me

 

*”There is no such thing as a metaphor of a metaphor. One does not progress through metaphors.” - Wallace Stevens, From the Notebooks.

the brain works by association
how did i brave this year’s mid-monsoon
was there a slow-hand anthem for a girl you knew from a forum

we all wait behind a black totem
for time to unravel its chainstitches
prepare yourself for warts and all

it was always the job, the serrated edges of a pub steak meal
no more baby talk
we are in thrall with suburbia

i admire the peony of your suffering
the tiny wings on your ankles have been clipped
the morning papers’ headlines written in invisible ink

perhaps in little crevices
a prayer is hammered out, somewhere
your face contorted into a grin
measuring the waves

Courtney Sina Meredith

terjemahan oleh Mikael Johani

 

Gaun 3 Euro di K Road

katun hitam tanpa beha.

 

Musuh bebuyutanku di ujung jalan

sementara laki laki yang menggenggam tanganku tadi malam

menambahku jadi teman di Facebook.

 

Kota ini telah menjadi tubuh yang lain

kulit yang membentang seperti kolam renang

kuterjun dan kucium seutuhnya.

 

Apakah ini sebuah remake Star Trek murahan

dibintangi empat juta tubuh

yang bergerak di frekuensi frekuensi yang berlainan?

 

Tak ada budak di ruang tamuku

hanya laki laki yang sedang menganggur dan karyawan call centre

bis hijau yang kembali dari Waitakere mengelupas aspal.

 

Aku mencoba mengerti CNN dan Assange

meskipun berita yang kudengar mengerikan seperti bor listrik dalam kelamin perawan.

 

Kutulis lirik untuk langkah tegap mereka

meski harus kukhianati egoku.

 

Aku melihat banyak hal

K Road telah tenggelam.

 

Sekarang tengah malam di Munich

jarak yang mereka ajarkan di sekolah

tak ada artinya lagi.

 

Tong sampah di seberang jalan

membeku di trotoar

selama aku pergi.

 

Seorang tentara berkaki telanjang

mengais sisa makanan di dalamnya tiap pagi. 

Nostalgia = Transcendence
Toeti Heraty

Nostalgia is transcendence,
yes, it’s another play on words
and foreign words at that
but everything is foreign now
everything is an illusion
let’s get back to nostalgia
it is also, a loss,
shadows in our memory
which have lost their terror,
irony has pillowed them

the present in flashback
who knows what’s going to happen …
what’s happening now - yesterday - tomorrow,
all taken care of
isn’t that transcendence?

Apa Itu Puisi
John Ashbery

Kota abad pertengahan, berhias uliran
Pramuka dari Nagoya? Salju

Yang turun setiap kali kita minta?
Bayangan-bayangan yang indah? Mencoba menghindari

Gagasan, seperti dalam puisi ini? Namun gagasan itu
Bagai istri, selalu kita sambangi kembali. Yang kita tinggalkan

Justru selingkuhan yang lebih menggoda. Sekarang mereka
Harus percaya

Seperti juga kita harus percaya. Selama sekolah
Semua pikiran kita rontok

Yang tersisa hanyalah sebuah lapangan kosong.
Tutup matamu, dan kau bisa meraba permukaannya sejauh bermil-mil.

Sekarang bukalah matamu tepat di depan sebuah jalan setapak tegak lurus.
Di ujung jalan itu ada—apa?—serangkai bunga?

you’re pretty as a shadow
a thin shroud
packed
in rays of neon

i took a flight of fancy
i broke the keel on my wild boat

your heels, lifted
off the ground

tempat berlindung di hari tua
saat sepi menutup mata

I will create the fabric of next year already

Discharge wabash, polka dots, stripes, moleskin, coloring + floral design in recent years

(wear excluded)

Until now, the famous pattern in old clothes were many,

but we will create a pattern that has become

like to look at the odds and ends

simply another this time

… I’m troubled still while I think at the discretion,

of going in the crystal-like hexagonal stripe + snow here or …

Orders in front of you,

while promotion, that next year,

I feel to look at it and study of the genre,

such as military and outdoor wear or even

I feel that it is connected to the product

made ​​it

like “!Cool me this” and “!Interesting”,

mind is the dance simply,

good stuff in my own and I wonder if I can

I received also today “original feel” 

Even ten years ago from now,

I do not appreciate that it was born

it is difficult even in ten years to age

very good

For me to be able to call people as “friends”

by attaching chest