and By disease, in the face of his own death, the poet of one's choice. Turn your face to the store (if they have any) and sharing the evening in the silence of the people – or to create – and then, as always, the part turned towards the self. It can be a painful thing, as a companion to a terminally ill poet, to see the end to the last time for its supply of incomplete, blank, ouppgjort, and, like a squirrel, pick up älsklingsnötterna, and tapping on them. The work in the place to be. < / span> , who recently passed away, seems to have decided to write all the way to the morfinet: ”Everything is beautiful. Pointless to defend yourself to the women in oncology”. However, as a few others, he shows that this is not a self-absorbed moment.
the Reason is stated in the title, ”Be a stone in their shoe”. If it is a young samtidspoeters a noble's duty to deal with the jagupplösning liquid kroppsgränser, and a post-modern relativism that is, pulling the heavy wagons of sex and relationships, the tunnels, out into the själstomhetens agoraphobia, the task is much more difficult for yourself in the oncology.
Now, it is the ego that stands in the alert.
this is because It is you who is going to die. It is you who is the rock in your shoe, or as Torsson writes: ”How obvious can you be?”
If you want to be called a ”final collection” of the genre (a personal favorite is the Fake Aspenströms Israpport), there is good and bad. If the poems are similar to the handled, are exempt from the präktighet. They are yvigare, more emotionally driven, more generous, with those subjects that have been the heart rather than the aesthetics, and the eftermälets.
And this is where we would be delighted to count ”to Be a stone in their shoe”. It is easier to understand, the style is recognizable, as well as the fun that rolls up with the distance before the gravity. It ends with an unfinished prosaäventyr, which is to be inherited, and the taken for more than pråla. It is also the one by the writer of recurrent ice dip, as in childhood, was his best friend. Now, it is the ego that stands in the alert.
”I want to die, But the love keeps me here.”
An act of love, to knock in the nuts
in a few days, and in the language, which is endless, but don't take over our body, no matter how we try. What do I do then? Alert expand. With a grimace, just in case? ”With the language, you have to turn the nose in the real world.”
Also, the leftover loved one will one day die, but then in a foam angel wings”. Immune sjunget? The loved one will suffer death, and all the more alone. But now that you bring it with you to their deaths, not me." And hopefully that was what you brought with you out of love. On the a sides of the you applied for in writing, therefore, it is an act of love, to knock in the nuts one last time.
that, at least, the full is you who is lost in the waking.
the Poet, Björner Torsson missing.
to Be a stone in their shoe.
Nirstedts, 82 p.
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Daniel Sjölin, is an editor of the Swedish newspaper Expressen kultursida.
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