WS Merwin (who knows food) named poet laureate

you gen-xers & millenials may not get this.. pity, that.

In Time

(from 1999)
by W. S. Merwin

The night the world was going to end
when we heard those explosions not far away
and the loudspeakers telling us
about the vast fires on the backwater
consuming undisclosed remnants
and warning us over and over
to stay indoors and make no signals
you stood at the open window
the light of one candle back in the room
we put on high boots to be ready
for wherever we might have to go
and we got out the oysters and sat
at the small table feeding them
to each other first with the fork
then from our mouths to each other
until there were none and we stood up
and started to dance without music
slowly we danced around and around
in circles and after a while we hummed
when the world was about to end
all those years all those nights ago
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2 responses to “WS Merwin (who knows food) named poet laureate

  1. What better subjects, love and food

    ODA AL TOMATE
    Pablo Neruda

    La calle
    se llenó de tomates,
    mediodía,
    verano,
    la luz
    se parte
    en dos
    mitades
    de tomate,
    corre
    por las calles
    el jugo.
    En diciembre
    se desata
    el tomate,
    invade
    las cocinas,
    entra por los almuerzos,
    se sienta
    reposado
    en los aparadores,
    entre los vasos,
    las mantequilleras,
    los saleros azules.
    Tiene
    luz propia,
    majestad benigna.
    Debemos, por desgracia,
    asesinarlo:
    se hunde
    el cuchillo
    en su pulpa viviente,
    es una roja
    víscera,
    un sol
    fresco,
    profundo,
    inagotable,
    llena las ensaladas
    de Chile,
    se casa alegremente
    con la clara cebolla,
    y para celebrarlo
    se deja
    caer
    aceite,
    hijo
    esencial del olivo,
    sobre sus hemisferios entreabiertos,
    agrega
    la pimienta
    su fragancia,
    la sal su magnetismo:
    son las bodas
    del día,
    el perejil
    levanta
    banderines,
    las papas
    hierven vigorosamente,
    el asado
    golpea
    con su aroma
    en la puerta,
    es hora!
    vamos!
    y sobre
    la mesa, en la cintura
    del verano,
    el tomate,
    astro de tierra,
    estrella
    repetida
    y fecunda,
    nos muestra
    sus circunvoluciones,
    sus canales,
    la insigne plenitud
    y la abundancia
    sin hueso,
    sin coraza,
    sin escamas ni espinas,
    nos entrega
    el regalo
    de su color fogoso
    y la totalidad de su frescura.

  2. This has some of his best prose.. about living in the southwest corner of France.

    The Lost Uplands: Stories of Southwest France, New York: Knopf. 1992

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