Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
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 Hal Coase 'Ochre Pitch' Gregory Woods 'On Queerness' Kirsty Gunn 'On Risk! Carl Phillips' Galina Rymbu 'What I Haven't Written' translated by Sasha Dugdale Gabriel Josipovici 'No More Stories' Valerie Duff-Strautmann 'Anne Carson's Wrong Norma'
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review 276
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 93, Volume 20 Number 1, September - October 1993.

Two Poems Norm Sibum

Late in the day, a day too far gone
to counter with sudden urges or well laid plans,
I read how Abraham wandered from valley to valley
with his goods. I had figured him for a desert rat,
a collector of invectives no-one needs,
but he was only looking for a place to pitch his tent
and pasture his cattle, to live well.

It's like that now-journeys that become
an impulse to laugh along with the stars at our fortunes.
In the cabaret below me,
someone warms up an accordion.
And if that music won't break my heart
the loner seated there as always
stretches out his carafe of wine, anticipating
what fun the place will provide

Searching, please wait... animated waiting image