tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18827180543123432772011-08-12T03:26:37.503-07:00Indonesian poet Saut Situmorang's blogSaut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.comBlogger161100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-41838277520524150592010-05-13T10:19:00.000-07:002010-05-13T10:20:51.864-07:00

the sky's so blue the kids're playingthen the sea rose and ate up everything –tsunami

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-20553978122287006972010-05-13T10:18:00.000-07:002010-05-13T10:19:38.231-07:00

the lonely moon andthe silent night are what thetsunami left behind

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-74544292515000974882010-05-13T10:17:00.000-07:002010-05-13T10:18:32.372-07:00

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-47298107042497326822010-05-13T10:15:00.000-07:002010-05-13T10:16:34.901-07:00

church bell the city walls laugh at it

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-66183553120009299842010-05-13T10:14:00.001-07:002010-05-13T10:14:39.253-07:00

a garden of flowers –you and the butterflyamongst them

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-39263618113718289582010-05-13T10:12:00.000-07:002010-05-13T10:13:04.935-07:00

such boredom –the goldfish swimmingmeasuring the aquarium

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-28768920234565945672010-05-13T10:11:00.001-07:002010-05-13T10:11:31.622-07:00

a leaf falls under the moonlightan owl awakes when it touches the wet earthI try not to think of you whena leaf falls under the moonlighta bamboo flute shrills in the midnight houra cicada awakes when it touches the wet rockI close my eyes and try not to remember whena bamboo flute shrills in the midnight hourwhy do you always come in the middle of after-midnight dreamso shadows of a persistent

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-74435998592224437212010-05-13T10:07:00.000-07:002010-05-13T10:08:30.430-07:00

-to René Magrittea nude woman casts her shadowon the wallin the shape of a birdwith its wingsspreadthe bird is a hornbillthat rules the ancient treesof the Sumatran jungleslook! she’ s flying now!she’s flying high across the blueness of the skyacross the blueness of the sky on the lakeunder the skylooking for her lost shadowthe nude woman who descended the rainbow of the heaven –a poor fisherman,

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-47196656960569269282010-05-13T10:05:00.001-07:002010-05-13T10:05:59.125-07:00

3 blind cats werefucking by my front doorthe night we celebrated our last christmas –I wonder if you rememberthe last christmas of this millennium is nearand everybody wants to be the first mortalto witness the first rays of the christian new millennial sun –the mortal sunto be crucified againin the next millennial beach partyseems that I’m going to celebratechristmas alone again this yearsince

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-17840032504181562262010-05-13T10:03:00.001-07:002010-05-13T10:03:40.988-07:00

let me do some infidelity firstbefore we talkof marriageof childrenof all the happiness that young couples dream ofI’m a fallen angeldestined to be humanin the rainbow of the city’s night lightslet me kiss the sharp bladeof the night wind’s curses firstbefore I can talkof loveand of youI’m an evil beastdestined to roam my ownwoundson the smooth skin of your night sistersjust let me finish this

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-16607375040696889172010-05-13T10:00:00.000-07:002010-05-13T10:01:16.123-07:00

suppose I step into your lifemother of memoriesmistress of mistresseslike some ancient chinese junkdriven by a favouring windbringing an evening of dreamsa full moon and silky starsas the night gradually closes like a mystic screen...I’ve enough dreams to fill a thousand verseswhere only metaphors existand angelic fireflies flapping their blinking giant wingsin a slow movementamidst the

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-51906507841067841752010-05-13T09:54:00.000-07:002010-05-13T09:56:03.019-07:00

shit & death is everywhereexcept around K Rdretro paradise of alcoholic angels& prophets of semen redemptionits skyline has the colour of Timothy Leary’s rainbowguarded by clean-shaven Dunhill-smoking Tae Bo-practising Herculesescarefully assessing the initiates to the temples of Zeusthe gods come down from the heavensevery holy Friday night to K Rd& t-shirt-wearing gymnast-mortalsdance for them

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-20487956944013821562009-10-02T04:04:00.000-07:002009-10-02T04:06:02.752-07:00

love is a Burmese cat running across the road & was shot at by APEC leaders’ security memberslove is the tampon that you mistook for a Chinese herbal tea-baglove is red & fiery like a member of a Communist partylove is never boring except in a Hollywood movielove is in the air & like a fart it is always interesting & smellylove is a full course of Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault with

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-73891838242886007712009-10-02T03:50:00.000-07:002009-10-02T03:52:25.635-07:00

my country where my mother lived and diedgiving birth to five deaths, five silent deathssilence of little babies lying cold on the tears-stained sheet of the bedall the dreams, all the hopes of a noisy futurecut off and sliced by five angels of deathangels of envy, angels of burning crossesangels that only dared to scare five little new born babiesmy country the land where my mother lived and

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-29836210762752859782008-09-08T18:58:00.000-07:002008-09-08T19:04:57.921-07:00

there’s a staircase which leads to the roofwhere pigeons build their neststough enoughto protectthe soft underbellymade from lace and sinewhairspray and spit20 feet above our headsfar away like a boat adriftlike soft tensile wiresplump as an oystergarlands of feather and bonenavigating by moon and starsin the hallucinating waters above the hill o deathlike Pinocchiodoing kinky things with red

Saut Situmorangnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1882718054312343277.post-88966888515073653152007-11-13T06:02:00.000-08:002007-11-13T06:08:14.686-08:00

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