L ive Boys In Bathing Suits

« I would like to make poems out of real objects. The lemon to be a lemon that the reader could cut or squeeze or taste – a real lemon like a newspaper in a collage is a real newspaper. I would like the moon in my poems to be real moon, one which could be suddenly covered with a cloud that has nothing to do with the poem – a moon utterly independent of images. The imagination pictures the real. I would like to point to the real, disclose it, to make a poem that has no sound in it but pointing of a finger.

We have both tried to be independent of imagines (you from the start and I only when I grew old enough to tire of trying to make things connect),to make things visible rather than to make pictures of them (phantasia non imaginary). How easy it is in erotic musings or in the truer imagination of a dream to invent a beautiful boy. How difficult to take a boy in a blue bathing suit that I have watched as casually as a tree and to make him visible in a poem as a tree is visible, not as an imagine, or a picture but something alive – caught forever in the structure of words. Live rooms, live lemons, live boys in bathing suits. The poem is a collage of the real. »