With Deer
By Aase Berg
Translated by Johannes Göransson
Black Ocean, 2012
These holes keep appearing. In my shirt, in the ground. A hole can be almost anything glowing with shame. Aase Berg’s With Deer is dangerous. Especially on Saturdays. Saturdays aren’t real. Johannes Göransson’s translation of With Deer is an excitement. Excitement as tower, as ruin, but also excitement as satellite. It is thrilled to have enemies, is what I mean. No matter, no matter. The lookout’s grief blips through radar after radar. Radar, before. What a bronzing of sin. I carry a snake in an insect’s dream. I look like hell in the place where my intestines meet. Inside joke, outside sorrow. I don’t know where else it happens, this inventory of squirrel loneliness, this ghost reverb of haunted autopsies. These are landmark injuries. Go there, go here, as wax figure, as mannequin. Let burial go. And throb in some groundstruck ache.
~
reflection by Barton Smock
kingsoftrain 
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