poem index

sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox

About this poet

Adriano Spatola is the author of The Position of Things: Collected Poems 1961-1992 (Green Integer, 2008).

The Abolition of Reality [Georges Seurat]

Adriano Spatola
Georges Seurat
Sunday Afternoon on the Island 
of Grande Jatte (1884-85)


The wonder the sense of lacquered objects
bolted measured tricked out in the clock
generous happy mature penance shadow
that the sun disbanded sews on the leaves
trousers hair parasols and gowns and gloves
anger drowns sighing the groan resounds
against the decorated and blank wall against the scale
unraveled dry whirlpool enameled Gongorism
congenital with thirst with gloomy astonishment
or wonder or the sense of lacquered objects.

From The Position of Things: Collected Poems 1961-1992 by Adriano Spatola, translated by Paul Vangelisti. Copyright © 2008 by Adriano Spatola and Paul Vangelisti. Used by permission of Green Integer Press.

From The Position of Things: Collected Poems 1961-1992 by Adriano Spatola, translated by Paul Vangelisti. Copyright © 2008 by Adriano Spatola and Paul Vangelisti. Used by permission of Green Integer Press.

Adriano Spatola

Adriano Spatola is the author of The Position of Things: Collected Poems 1961-1992 (Green Integer, 2008).

by this poet

poem
1
an adjective breathing the window open
the insertion's exact dimension in the rustling of pages
or see maybe how the text uses the body
see how the work is cosmic and biological and logical
in nocturnal voices in auroral explosions
in the croaking scratching scraping setting fire
here under the soft sky
poem
1
in my father's tomb the gods have been buried for millennia
in Crete Mycenae Mexico or Babylon
and your task, young ephebe, is radically changed
we're not talking about singing in chorus by the light of the moon
nor pretending to the warmth of a bonfire shepherding a metallic herd
we're talking about carefully
poem
The sun is made of many mysterious concepts
cowardly resentments with listless rotation
they say they don't say but they demand attention
something rotten a little enlarged or rosy
a slight lividness applied to our pettiness
with light brush strokes exhausted by the heat
I speak of the heat that spoils and