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)
Jamie OsbornIn conversation with Sasha Dugdale
(PN Review 240)
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Monthly Carcanet Books
Gratis Ad 1
Next Issue Kei Miller Sometimes I Consider the Names of Places Kyoo Lee's A Close Up and Marjorie Perloff's response John McAuliffe City of Trees Don Share on Whitman's Bicentenary Jeffrey Wainwright and Jon Glover on Geoffrey Hill's Gnostic

This poem is taken from PN Review 231, Volume 43 Number 1, September - October 2016.

Two Poems Shlomo Laufer
Reading a Poem

I stood on the podium and read
A poem. The audience broke out in loud applause.
They wept and wailed. From high in the gallery
Came moans of rapture. Anguish gnawed at people’s hearts.
They clasped their heads, looked down at
The balustrade. A woman stripped herself and threw
Her breasts at me. An old man died in his seat.
People rent their clothes. Bladders
Burst, the ceiling caved in and God loomed forth
In utter horror: Had He missed
Something hitherto unknown?

And there I stood, stock-still on the podium,
Transmuted into earth and water, while flames rushed
Through the inferno of my words.



The Bruno Cycle
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image