Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Gwyneth Lewis ‘Spiderings’ Ian Thomson ‘Fires were started: Tallinn, 1944’ Adrian May ‘Traditionalism and Tradition’ Judith Herzberg ‘Poems’ translated by Margitt Helbert Horatio Morpurgo ‘What is a Book?’
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Reader Survey
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 175, Volume 33 Number 5, May - June 2007.

Four Lies John Gallas

In 1968, in Mexico City, Mongolia's first silver medal was won by Munkhbat Jigjidym in the middleweight (78- 87kg) freestyle wrestling.

('World Sports' magazine)


(Text is as follows)

The air up
here is woozy,
shallow, sweet,
but not so
Clear up a green, high, home hill,
bear-tangled with wind, the here-air
heartens my head.
Up and down a numb,
bleach mat, hugging souls here, souls that
bow grass down, that clog clouds,
that wilt wind a whole day's horse
ride. I eat all comers, faces like
bubbles in new cheese, muscled as milk
and wrestling shadows : keep hold

Searching, please wait... animated waiting image