In Which We Respectfully Pass On The Partial Oeuvre Of This German Poet While Gracing You With The Musical Ride Of Your Life Re: Miya Dunets

Before we get into the poetry and the music and the usual, an apology. I seriously apologize for saying this young man was from France. He blogs from Canada, and if my high school French teacher wasn’t such a useless beyotch I likely would be able to understand his ramblings.

Onwards, as Bob would say.

Douglas Messerli and Green Integer Books are publishing some of the most interesting books around, and it doesn’t hurt that they are in awesome packaging. Poetry in translation is difficult, and even more difficult to find a market for, so the publication of Tousled Beauty hasn’t received as much attention as it deserved. Translated by the impeccable and brilliant Andrew Shields, the collection is Dieter M. Graf’s first, so far as I know, on this side of the Atlantic. I pass on these few poems to encourage you to buy their books, and this book, and you can read more Dieter here, and some of Andrew Shields’ work is here.


ever more in the cracks — tar
creatures, cratered with eyes
in faces crusted shut as if
remote controlled — and those
close to the ground (one, with
putty, huddling over the hiding
place), who slipped right out
of time: whole colors do not
come — their black, silent
core drawing everything into
itself — to them anymore, but
still shimmer on the walls.
It eats through as slowly
as maggots: drizzles down into
the open-air museum; all the
lighters under the idyll, their —
it’s flickering so — crumbling
up into the darkened room; the
stumbling movements, ever
smaller, toward the sculpt
uresque —

Dieter M. Graf, translated by Andrew Shields

Endless Path

strong longing for the shadow
of summer, as a child: a lizard
is lying under the stone,
which is still warm. Recall
the moss, too, the ruins, and yet
everything happened now: the paths
were there, nuances of foliage
and endless, for they had no des
tination and vanished only then.

Dieter M. Graf, translated by Andrew Shields

Union Station, Los Angeles

now the throb of
the switched-off spot
in the heart,

empty information.

There– hurrying in
the nave, a man; the wrong

time on the clock.

Old lady, sleeping with
dignity, in athletic shoes,
head resting on news

paper. Sinking man,
his tentative stick.

Beautiful black
woman reading; the beard
believer’s book,
gilded. Waiting throne.

The Dim Sum wagon
metal of the empty
luggage carousel.

Off the side, secluded
green from which
–sprinkling sound–
the camouflaged loud
speakers sprout;

for a few steps:
pedestrian reverence,
but afterwards
I am
the white in this
homeless negative

Dieter M. Graf

Again, go visit Green Integer and check out their catalog. Rest assured I’ll be snatching up Nelly Sachs‘ Collected Poems like it’s my job. Wow, there’s a sentence that has definitely never been thought, uttered, or printed.

For all my little poet friends, let’s not forget the flush with cash Poetry magazine is focused on poets they’ve never published before. This will likely mean, “Paul Muldoon”, but we can hope.

New acts time:

“Shoot The Dog Chop The Tree” — Taxi Taxi

Summer-y but less flip than its riffy nature might indicate. I only know what half of the words in the previous sentence mean. The title track from Maps and Legends is pretty dope, too. Here’s their website. I don’t know why I’m saying ‘their’, it’s basically one dude. For people in my town, they’re playing at the Mercury Lounge in ten days. You can preview the full album here.

“Happy With You” — Miya Dunets

“Stranger” — Miya Dunets (highest possible recommendation)

“I Started a Song” is also such a sick track, one that you can listen to here. I’ve had the privilege of seeing her live and she is the real thing. She is the next Regina Spektor. She is the next The Killers. She is the next Knocked Up. She’s the hatch on Lost. She fucking killed Chris Moltisanti. The fact that she is not signed to a major label deal is a travesty that will no doubt soon be remedied. Again, if you live in my town, she’s playing at Fontana’s on May 30. Just amazing stuff and I’m praying for an LP.

5 thoughts on “In Which We Respectfully Pass On The Partial Oeuvre Of This German Poet While Gracing You With The Musical Ride Of Your Life Re: Miya Dunets

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