PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
M. Wynn ThomasThe Other Side of the Hedge
(PN Review 239)
Next Issue Beverley Bie Brahic, after Leopardi's 'Broom' Michael Freeman Benefytes and Consolacyons Miles Burrows At Madame Zaza’s and other poems Victoria Kenefick Hunger Strike Hilary Davies Haunted by Christ
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This poem is taken from PN Review 210, Volume 39 Number 4, March - April 2013.

from 'The Muses' J. Kates
The Muse on Sunset Boulevard

Once I had respect and love
, she whined
in Attic Greek - a song I know too well.
I sat down next to you, you looked so kind,
I like red wine
. I ordered zinfandel

and steeled myself to listen to the tale
of Rick's café - Mister, I met a man -
waiting for the wow, and wished like hell
she looked a little more like Ingrid Bergman

and less like Norma Desmond. No such luck.
I need an agent. Gentleman that I am,
I kept my mouth shut. I don't give a damn,
, I didn't say. Still, I was stuck

and sympathetic to the grande old dame.
What the fuck, I'm singing, what the fuck.

The Muse in Soviet Life

Searching, please wait... animated waiting image