A Provincial Scene
An alabastrine church’s bronzed bell,
a cerulean sky of starkest, brightest blue,
the baby’s breath of clouds,
two bluebirds paired in marital flight.
The white-lace nemoral lattice of the climbing
panes and panels that adorn an Arcadian
The peal, the ping! the din, and ding and dung and dong, and
roar ………………… the heavy, prideful, ringing
tolling of the steeple-imprisoned, swaying, soaring bell.
What penitentiary, what internment is this?
What scene of hopeful freedom
contrasted with the eternal, sleepless
agony of slavery?
What town’s clerical and civil and
municipal and commercial and
sumptuary governing bodies —
composed of demagogues and
ulcerous rodents and provincials
and pretenders and hypocrites all —
decreed this atrocity and,
without conscience and with
undue, surfeit impunity, permit it?
An Intestinal Anecdote (And A Flatuent/Eructating One) Of Greatest Brevity
A marshmallow bellow will escape the acidic,
arid, Acherontic interiors of
man — the truth, reality and only possible definition of “his own private hell” —
with a loud burrap! sound,
an ephemeral, potent cacophony
of great disruption ……………………… but,
what of it?
The poet-reporter-scientist-philosopher’s preference herein be, for the moment,
of the blooded walls of man’s organic interiors and
the Stygian absence of light
that suffuses them.
It is that volcanic rumbling
from amongst these masses of scandent sinew,
clinging to and buttressed by those gleaming
skeletal sticks, comprising
full and true the human body’s
(internal) infrastructure, it’s foundation, it’s systems of roads,
the osseous groined ribs and vaults on which is erected
the edifice of man …………………………………………………………………………
man, he who lets forth a deafening
roar, at various whiles, from out
his mouth and mealy, meaty maw or from out
his other extremity and the meaty, haphazard
conduit which connects and serves it.
Born in New England in late 1982, Douglas Cate has long had great writing and poetic talents, some of which did not get fully recognized and appreciated for quite some time. Though his talents were sheltered and safeguarded and encouraged by many of his school teachers, and some of his friends, his family, being somewhat blue-collar, did not seem to have an overt influence over the progress and flourishing of his talent and his works. Nor did they possess a grand appreciation of them. Regardless, at the somewhat tender age of 30, this is his very first instance of publication — never before has any of his works been published. Mr. Cate still resides in Northern New England, not too far from the municipality and locality of his beloved childhood years, Kittery.
1982년 뉴잉글랜드에서 태어난 더글라스 케이트는 오랜 기간 훌륭한 작문 능력과 시적 소질을 가지고 있었지만 상당히 오랜 기간 완전히 인정받지 못했다. 그의 재능은 비록 많은 학교 선생님들께서 혹은 몇몇 친구들이 소중히 유지시켜 주었고 격려도 해주었지만 그의 가족은 좀 블루칼라라서 그의 재능과 작품의 활성화 과정에 노골적인 영향을 끼치지는 못한 듯하다. 그의 재능을 가족이 알아준 것도 아니다. 어찌되었든 젊다고도 볼 수 있는 30세라는 나이에 이것은 그의 최초의 출판 작품이다. 그의 작품이 전에 출판된 적은 단 한번도 없다. 케이트 씨는 여전히 북부 뉴잉글랜드에 거주하며 그의 행복했던 유년시절의 고향인 키터리 부근에 살고 있다.