By Aki Salmela.
The genuine evanescence of life
Stream of words, narration as a frail anguish
of lamentable failure. They stayed
quietly closing our own inferior century. He
talked, it was grotesque;
even our love lives were sitting together
with great seriousness. All attempts fail,
but we must try that old paper
in increasingly grotesque situations. Unquestionably,
it’s worth the great caring, and within the individual
communication lies the mean old paper with great
We were sitting in the impossibility
of establishing the space of destined life.
Time is a quietly closing door.
He’d eternity, his currency and the anguish
of individual with a stream of words.
This is destined to fail. An old door,
frail as communication, and the narration
with it’s sense of loneliness.
Impossibility of quietly closing the genuine
of life; a lamentable door. Alienation as our love.
Within the grotesque century of situations
they met again.
All eaters stayed to chat about life
Sun in this book
Shone on the handicap of nothing new
Things at least not by by the laws
“Bliss” year lurks profound lethargy
Of much sentience that whinge sooner
A clumsy form upon me poor ol’ in
This project he turned his head back on
Things had already been shattered
Made nude desecrating straight ways evocation
Of a voice “Bliss”
Fair scholar I was too a big bony hunk
A mouth speaking of the dark
Diction of a nearly empty mind
Play writhe in the night the sky
But the ventriloquist is omnipresent
As hens teeth now
Narrator is narrated less said
The better and back again
The Splendid barcarolle
I oppose with all the forces of my will
Another blot on silence
Boundaries of a totally hermetic sphere
Nothing for anybody
It has been replaced with a ravine
They know nothing about botany
It was not midnight
The rain is beating on the windows
This is circularity with a difference
Somehow I couldn’t say no
The curious disconnection of similitudes
The will has been opened
Things are “running out”
You should never run slowly
Am I sleeping now?
One of the thieves was saved
The set is therefore empty
You must go on
The lines echoed
The journey guarantees no return
This seemed to disappoint him greatly
Disturb no surface texture
Comedy evaporates, mystery intrudes
We are left with bits and pieces
He goes feverishly to and fro
I tell this story worse and worse
Words meet music in the counterfeit image
The Lord upholdeth all
The image we see is the same
Economy of gesture
He’ll have them on their feet
Art can be assisted
In the cylinder they are making immaculate love
Light fades on these deepening shades
There may still be some more stirrings
Both are finally unsettled by the question
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Aki Salmela was born in 1976 in Helsinki, Finland. He is a poet, translator and is the first featured writer in 3:AM’s Maintenant series of interviews. He has published two books of poetry in Finnish, Sanomattomia lehtiä (2004), Leikitään kotia (2005) and one chapbook of experimental poetry in English, Word in Progress (2004) (from which these poems have been taken). His translations include the selected poems of John Ashbery, Valveillaoloa (2004), and the selected poems of Russell Edson, Intuitiivinen matka (2006).
First published in 3:AM Magazine: Thursday, January 21st, 2010.