Hugh Thomas (he/him) lives in Tiohtià:ke / Montréal / Montreal, where he teaches mathematics at UQAM. His most recent chapbook, Jangle Straw, was published by Turret House Press in 2023.
“This poem is a translation back into English of a poem written in English by Stuart Ross (‘Razovsky at Peace’) and translated into Spanish by Sarah Moses and Tomás Downey. Since I don’t know Spanish, the poems sustained some damage in the process. “
In the notebook, someone plays dice with Razovsky.
“Oh God, behind the edifying skeletons,
naturalness.” So says Razovsky.
In nature, his to-do list is quieter.
The TV is not high definition. The animals
have eaten the TV as an appetizer.
In his nature, Razovsky is rainy.
His arms and legs are becoming birds. He is
a cupboard of insects.
Razovsky has to scream.
In nature, he cannot enter
his own parable. It despairs
behind the trees, remainders of rocks, floating
away. Razovsky’s revolutionary army balances
on the dirty leaves that darken
the enormous room of being.
A flame rides the trunk of a tree
which scrunches up its nose.
Razovsky has limits.
He is nothing but time as it passes.
His eyes sink into the flame.
He requests the wet leaves,
relates his memories.
In the space left by the gazes,
we are the nubile sky.
Razovsky is absorbed in chilli dogs and reasons,
sordid ruins and zombies. Songs
about birds, impossible to count. Math
was never his strong point.
The mountains behind the eyes,
as the sky turns to cloud.
Everything is ordinary. For example
the scent of french fries moves on the breeze.
It tarries between two rocks,
teasing cruelly.
Time passes. Razovsky rediscovers
part of his soul. The french fries
become a butterfly. Consecrated by nature,
Razovsky struggles to get out of his cocoon,
desperately beating his wings. Alas,
Razovsky is not surprised.
The mirage on the ground
and the mirage in the trees
come into sync
with a crunch.
