Lennart Lundh – poems
1. Arbor and Winepress (with audio)
2. Elegy (with audio)
…. - Video remix by Marc Neys (aka Swoon)
…. - Video remix by Paul Broderick
3. Sandburg and Photograph (with audio)
…. - Video remix by Nic Sebastian
4. Snow White Speaks in the Confessional (with audio)
2. To Grandmother’s House (with audio)
Arbor and Winepress
(after a landscape by Fra Bartolommeo)
(Read by Siddartha Beth Pierce)
This is where you brought me when we wed:
I, fifteen, and not yet quick with child
though filled with longings
passed down by my mother and her own.
You, eighteen, and poorly educated to a life
not set before you in the halls
your father brought the tutors to.
The copse of trees is thinner now,
as is my life these years alone.
The room in back, where first we took each other
with an innocent savagery bordering rape,
is mine alone: A shrine
holding memories that end with you.
At the gate, our oldest son and his son;
a tom that came to clear the mice
and stayed when they were done;
a winepress calling forth the joy of life.
The missed grape is as fruitless
as imagined lives without this place.
- First read publicly at Lewis University in 2013
(Read by Nic Sebastian)
download audioDig the small grave
and place the smaller body so,
just so. The chill May rain
and the warm human tears
falling on her head
will serve for the ritual
washing of this pup,
barely two days old.
Some future digger after truth,
alien or human, kneeling with
trowel and brush at this grave,
will note in clear, careful script
the wonder that a people would
be so deliberate with the smallest
of their gods’ creatures,
and so careless of themselves.
Process notes by Marc Neys
Video remix by Paul Broderick
Visit Vimeo to view video (WARNING: Graphic content.)
Ten months from now,
I will recall this
against my better judgment.
And later I will listen
to a photograph of you.
This is two years before
my wife will tell me
of your liaison with drink,
and the death by fire
of your children.
Video process note can be read here.
We made my father’s witch-wife dance
inside the stone-dry wood’s fire.
It’s how we dealt with treason then.
My heart so filled with hate,
I thought nothing of it, but felt proud
to throw a fagot at her feet.
Now brothers and mendicant friars say
I must repent, regret, remorse.
Truly, I understand forgiveness,
but how can I let go
what I cannot forget?
I, not they, dream at night
of sweet, wet fruit besmirched
to carry me near Death’s dull path.
Father, forgive me,
for I have sinned.
And, Father, please forgive me,
but I know not what I’ve done.
- First published in The Binnacle in 2013
To Grandmother’s House
(Read by Lennart Lundh)
download audioThrough the Lilac crossroads
into Keys Canyon
and across the San Luis Rey River bridge
(a flat, dry riverbed),
and nearby an old woman
with the sun in her skin
-First published in Other Poetry in 2011
Lennart Lundh is a poet, short-fiction author, historian, and photographer. His work has appeared internationally since 1965. Len and his wife Lin live in northern Illinois, where he currently manages text acquisitions for a university. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org, and can be found on Facebook and Google.