‘To contemporary dance and poetry.
To Bukowski, who drinks and fucks in every third poem
and sends everyone to hell.
I am reading a book of his selected poems in my countryside home.
On a bench between the well, woodshed, and greenhouse
and lavender, which won’t be here anymore tomorrow.’
from “You Get Used to Everything” by Inga Pizāne, published in B O D Y’s Latvian Lit Week together with “What I Know About My Mother’s Mother” in a translation from the Latvian by Jayde Will.
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