硬核推荐外国现代诗歌(外国现代诗歌精选鉴赏)

to burn into smoke to soot up the ceiling fan. More keypads to catch。

 

推荐语希齐格的诗奇异、冷静，她设置超现实场景，用非寻常材料介入日常，以虚拟观察和虚构体验的双重叠加手法，深入客体包围，时刻操作知觉制动，构思演绎着人工智能、城市夹层、经济学和法理学边缘的诸多叙事冲突，从而为揭示当下社会里人的身心异化与存在迷失，验证失序的现实生活底线而提供实验文本。

这类题材和写法，在国内并不多见，值得有心人品味赏析（温经天）

佐伊希齐格后现代诗三首程式化的事实佐伊.希齐格现在我不能越过夹层，永远不知道谁在等我在楼下在旋转门旁边覆盖在盾牌或十字架上就像献血一样这将成为他们最终成功的一年在收获这些果实——自我器官之时，我问，为了他们。

告诉我这是为什么？好像我不是那个肿胀的人在他们的小册子上微笑别为这个逻辑而烦恼与你眼中的我一样就像劳动午餐时的拼盘我曾经羡慕树木把薄雾作为面纱中等的树干爆炸成数以千计的肌肉僵硬的一伸到腿上的土壤现在连树。

看起来都温顺并易受影响对于准 -女神，其半条命比头发都短当我们还有头发时我的伴侣剃着须说（头发说）我们应该是由光组成的而每天早上我醒来就希望发现我身体的一些部位被挖空并封装在钢铁中每个人都有权利用自己的魔法子弹

实现理论自洽那些接触和了解你的游戏我们不再玩了因为我们丧失了接触和了解你的机会如果你必须进一步地挺进未来，在某某县，某某州，你会选择什么版本的哪个自我呢？半冻结的田野持续到了一月高大，孤独，多余的涡轮机撞击着

废弃的州际公路我玩我的游戏我等待下一次竞选（译 温经天）Stylized FactsNow I can’tget past the mezzanine,never know who’s waitingfor me downstairs

by the revolving doorcovered in shields or crosseslike the blood drive. Will thisbe the year they finally succeed

in harvesting these lastself-organs, I ask, as theytell me it’s for a cause?As if I’m not the swollen one

smiling on their pamphlets.Don’t bother with this logicof sameness as you eye melike the platter at labor lunch.

I used to envy the treeswearing mists as veils,modest trunks exploding intothousands of muscle-boundlegs soon as they reach

the soil. Now even treesseem docile and susceptible.So too for the quasi-goddesses with half-livesshorter than a hair’s.

When we still had hairand partners my partnershaving said hair saidwe should be made of lightWhile every morning I

wake hoping to uncoversome slab of my bodyhollowed out and encasedin steel. Everyone’s entitledto her own magic bullet

theory of self. There’sthe get-to-know-yougame we play no longerfor we lost get-to and know-youIf you had to press further into

the future in what county whatprovince would you electwhat version of what self?A half-frozen field late

January. Tall, spare, loneturbine thrashing bythe abandoned interstate.I play my game.I await the next campaign.

我端详我被观看的右手佐伊·希齐格一只用它所接触到的东西做成的手——注射器做的手指塞满脏兮兮的涤纶毯指甲用塑料瓶盖剪出指关节由别的外皮构成细节生动由精致的灰烬分层——红润，斑斓，衣冠楚楚但左手的肉色和灰色，像混凝土浇筑

环绕它，打磨边缘要小心地操作，符合几何学规定干燥的皮肤缓慢地穿梭于轮廓赤手空拳，在地面上敲打指关节不知道它会不会使混凝土开裂？它会在反作用力下崩溃吗？——材料、经济，确如混凝土一样简单很简单，解释简单但很难。

理解，因此无需解释像我们的地壳板块，深深地滑动于彼此之间，人们想知道谁能推倒一栋建筑如倾倒液体这就是定罪的逻辑在定义条款之前，我们被告知：【情境记忆功能发生障碍】【目前处于障碍记忆状态】那些手不是我们的手。

因此我们深信我们的灭亡是由我们自己设计的（温经天 译）I Looked on My Right Hand and Behelda hand made out of all that it touched—。

fingers of syringes packed with soiledpolyester blankets nails cut froma plastic bottle cap knucklesshaped by rinds of other knuckles

and details layered in delicate ash—ruddy, colorful, clothed. But the left,flesh and grey, poured like the concrete

surrounding it and sanded at the edgescareful as geometry allows withdried skin creeping through contours.

Naked hands. Beating knuckles on the groundwondering will it crack the concrete finallywill it crumble under opposing forces—

material, economy as simple as concreteis simple, simple to explain but difficultto understand without explanation.

As plates in our deep crust skid pastone another. One might wonder whothinks to pour a building of mostly

liquid. Such is the logic of convictionwe are told before the terms are defined.Dysfunction of episodic memory.

Episode of memory of dysfunction.Hands that are not our hands.And so convinced are we ofour own demise we devise it.

关于这首诗 作者说“我把诗篇142：4的诗的标题从诗篇中摘下来，开头是：我看见我被注视的右手，但是没有人会认识我：皈依使我失败了没有人关心我的灵魂这篇诗篇由大卫说，他被流放到阿杜兰的洞穴里，指的是古代犹太法庭诉讼，其中辩护律师将站在被告的右侧。

因此，这首诗开始于一种深刻的孤立和混乱的状态演讲者躺在摇摇晃晃的地面上——她无法完全区分记忆、想象和现实她也无法调和她内心相互冲突的冲动在她迷失方向的状态下，她挣扎着——特别是在诗的结尾——弄清楚她如何融入她周围的社会结构。

——佐伊·希齐格

战争出错的房间佐伊.希齐格更像是街上戒备森严的游乐场，到处都是骚乱更多的对冲基金玻璃幕墙，仿佛骚乱是风景，与瀑布，更多带着急救箱的交叉武装监工绑在脚踝上，旁边是手枪更令人困惑的数字比如真相：有多少喷壶……还有真相：多久才会变色。

离开她……并敢于：去除金属的气味，放开爱丽丝的手单杠……更像游乐场，更像缠在一起的网更多的绳子用来做网以避开下面的空隙毫无理由地更多的堡垒，更多的船头，更多的船尾，车轮装饰更华丽请掌舵更多的比赛来分散人们对缺乏场地的注意力。

更是如此现在爱丽丝已经不在了此外，监督者呢？更多的预算削减用你的钱买更多？对美元来说更多更多的果汁盒里的异国果汁用来和恶霸交易更多果汁烧成烟把吊扇弄脏更多的键盘来捕捉我们焦虑的拇指更多缠在网里的尸体更多的网。

被尸体填满更多的船和贴花的箱子更多的果汁去讨价还价，然后烧掉我们的肺里又多了一层防火毯更多的休闲更冷漠仅仅伤亡你能听到更多的爱丽丝吗？爱丽丝生长得更远了“更多？”她呻吟道，“还在继续”更多的战争出了问题。

更多的伤口更多的很快更多的继续不停止请不要我不能更不能呼吸（温经天译）The War Gone Wrong RoomMore like the maximum-security playground on the street with all the riots.。

More hedgefund-glass enclosures as if the riots were landscape,with waterfall. More cross armed supervisors with first-aid kits

strapped onto ankles, next to pistols. More puzzling over numberslike truth : how many watering cans ... and truth : how long ’til the color

left her ... and dare : take the scent of metal off take Alice’s hands offthe monkey bars ... More like playgroundless—more tangling in nets

more ropes for nets to avoid the void below. More no-ground ground.More forts, more bows, more sterns. More ornately decorated wheels

in the helm, please. More play to distract from lack of ground. More sonow that Alice is no more. Moreover, what of the supervisors?

More budget cuts. More for your dollar? More for the Dollar. Moreexotic juice in the juiceboxes to trade with the bullies. More juice

to burn into smoke to soot up the ceiling fan. More keypads to catchour twiddling thumbs. More tangling bodies in nets. More nets

filling with corpses. More decals for ships and chests. More juiceto bargain for, then burn. More fire blankets on our lungs. More

casual more indifference. Mere casualties. More Alice can you hear her?More distant grows Alice. “More?” she moans, “it just keeps going.”

More war gone wrong. More wounds. More soon. More keep goingdon’t stop no. More please no. More I can’t. More can’t breathe.

From Mezzanine (Ecco, 2020).