beverley bie brahic's Writings
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Poem
May.01.2010
Verse
A Web
Not a lace tablecloth laid out to dry. Not a tightrope
tossed from point a to point b
across a dry gulch of nothingness (spindly Joshua tree);
not even a safety net
to snatch the trapezist out of the blue
star-spangled in gravity. No—nothing
so predictable. Not your dew-studded-orb-at-dawn-
when-sunlight-catches-it, but...
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Dec.21.2008
from Yves Bonnefoy, DEBUT ET FIN DE LA NEIGE (Paris, Mercure de France, 1991)
I had gone out
To fetch water from the well, by the trees,
And I was in the presence of another sky.
Gone the constellations of a moment ago,
Three-fourths of the firmament was void,
The blackest black held sway there alone,
But to the left, above the horizon,
In among the tops of the oak trees,
Was a cluster of reddish glowing stars
A fire, from which even smoke...
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About beverley
BEVERLEY BIE BRAHIC was born in Canada, and lives in Paris and Stanford, California. A translator and poet, her work has appeared in Field, Literary Imagination, Notre Dame Review, Oxford Poetry, PN Review, Poetry, The Times Literary Supplement, and...