Words, saliva, insomnia pour
into the northeast edge of absence, into the stupor
and farther to the east I masturbate thinking of you
Screech of sea gulls. Dawn. The froth in the dazzle of the wing
The color and season of bougainvilleas are for you. The pollen stuck to my fingers
Hold me tight. The ripening rain, your scent
of sour violets feverish with dust
words that are nothing but an extended prayer
a kind of madness after the madness
The cages enclosing the perfumes, the limitless delights
the voluptuousness of being born again and again, fixed ecstasy
Move. More, more
I ask for a lot. You are more beautiful, more terrifying than the night
You ache in me
Photographs nearly faded in the fermentation of silence
Unscreened porches
Your breath crushes summer
And fever flushed other skies, the gleaming verandas
grow dark with the acacias
And in the kitchen the just-washed dishes, the dried fruits, the syrups
In the swelling of rivers
In the night of willows
In the washbasins of dreams from which the fumes
of female viscera rise, unmistakable and expansive
I leave you my death, entire, intact,
My death for you alone
To whom does one speak before dying? Where are you?
Where within me can I invent you?

     —Gloria Gervitz, from Migrations / Migraciones

Photo by Margita Gutmane

This issue of The Drunken Boat is dedicated to Vizma Belsevica, the Latvian poet who died on August 6, 2005.

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Upcoming Issue


In December, 2005, a feature of Latvian poetry-in-translation, including the poetry of:

Vizma Belsevica
Knuts Skujenieks
Amanda Aizpuriete
Uldis Berzins
Leons Briedis
Ronalds Briedis
Peteris Bruveris
Janis Elsbergs
Klavs Elsbergs
Inga Gaile
Juris Kronbergs
Liana Langa
Edvins Raups
Janis Rokpelnis
Maris Salejs
Karlis Verdins
Mara Zalite
Imants Ziedonis
Peteris Zirnitis

Translated by:

Margita Gailitis
Inta Geile
Ieva Lesinska
Inguna Jansone
Mara Rozitis

Co-Edited by:

Margita Gailitis
J.C. Todd