M. T. C. CRONIN


M. T. C. Cronin has published seven books and three booklets of poetry, the most
recent being a Spanish/English edition of her 2001 book, Talking to Neruda's
Questions
(Respondiendo a las Preguntas de Neruda) (SAFO, Santiago, Chile,
2004), translated by Juan Garrido Salgado (currently also being translated into
Swedish by Lars Palm for publication in Sweden), beautiful, unfinished PARABLE/
SONG/CANTO/POEM
(Salt Publishing, UK, 2003 - www.saltpublishing.com) and
More or Less Than 1-100
(Shearsman Press, UK, 2004 - www.shearsman.com).
Tatjana Lukic is also translating a collection of her work into Bosnian and Serbian.
She lives in Maleny, Australia, with her partner and three young daughters and is
completing a PhD - The Catastrophe of Meaning - on poetry and law. Her next
book is due out shortly through Ravenna Press, USA.





Fool, Imbecile, Thinkhole!

People can think about you even when they can't see you.
Remember this the next time your cowardice comes
To wind you down.
Upholstery doesn't make you a better person
And you're not at fault because of a soft bloody wart
On a horse.
All nudes are big because our clothes take us away
From the world.
The clothes might just be our bodies stupidly put.
We are like containers for jellyfish and damaging stones.
These thoughts are like all the inhabitants of a big country
Illegally living in a tiny town.
The immigration official calls and calls.
We get scareder and scareder as time runs out.
This is the same time that will reveal both foolishness
And death.
There is a state of enmity that exists forever
Between fear and relief.
Never look to a method if a purpose is already
Jumping up and down with a torchlight
In the toolshed.
Silliness cannot be measured by the use of adjectives
To describe such a state.
Like an emerald
Neither sunshine, shade, nor artificial light has any effect
On its appearance.
You need to be brave despite your guts.
Like a cow with an aneurysm
Or someone the same as an uncle
Each of us is called to his or her own life.
What calls you is the sound of a thought trickling down
Through being.
You're an imbecile if you think that's invented because we
Disappear.
People can think about you even when they can't see you.
Remember this the next time you fall down a very big
Hole.






The Mistake

Irresistibly changing.

I was silly in my mind. A mistake. At first being a child and then trying to be something else. I really should have kept the red blocks and the two plastic funnels that fitted so perfectly over my forearms and hands. Later, when I could no longer run in circles, I even gave up screaming.

The world, of course, is never bothered with silence.






Anna and the Green Jug

Any girl could seal his poems
with her lips; he would call a poem about her 'Anna
and the Green Jug' -
it's all in the motion, the flux:
her skin passed before him fluty-toned, coming out
and calling inertia to follow -
one and long,
water fell into her throat like a specially skilled diver
while nervously he poured
and swallowed the lyric.






Indications

Everyone accepts.

~*~

Someone tells a story comparable
to any that's happened.

~*~

A language that survives
not being understood.

~*~

In poetry, dashes that follow a full-stop. -

~*~

Any euphemism.

~*~

Signs of something definite. (A howl, a wail,
mischief or skill.)

~*~

Things like motmot, fylfot, ambo and orlop.

~*~

Ergo, the beauty
of an upside-down ear.

~*~

Bright shining purpose with no fear
of inevitable exposure.

~*~

Quoting from reality.

~*~

Building sentences solely from magnetic phrases.

~*~

Speaking to the world in complete secrecy.

~*~

Saying only and nothing
without having to practise
some sort of unintentional
sorcery.

~*~

Then spontaneity.

~*~

An empty knowing.

~*~

Remembering more
than what could not be forgotten.

~*~

The acquisition that comes from no-one.

~*~

Born simultaneous.

~*~

Stranded in what happens.







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