True Story
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They say I write black
and love death and madness.
For the record:
12:00 a.m. May 22, 1988 FOR THE RECORD
Los Angeles Times Sunday May 22, 1988 Home Edition Book Review Page 7 Book Review Desk 2 inches; 49 words Type of Material: Correction
The word unspeakable was printed as speakable in a typographical error that occurred in line 14 of Kate Braverman’s poem, “True Story” (Book Review, May 1). The stanza should read:
I woke up broke
in an unspeakable port
regretting nothing.
I lived for his cha-cha
his rhumba, the light
glancing off his pointed
and shined black shoes.
Art is for the few.
The rare as poets, mutes
or the survivors of surgery.
I am speaking of blood matters,
passion, risking everything,
leaving a husband and children
(this is a true story)
to fly to Caracas
with a part-time dance
instructor named Ramon.
I woke up broke
in an speakable port
regretting nothing.
I lived for his cha-cha
his rumba, the light
glancing off his pointed
and shined black shoes.
We boogied for months.
From Buenos Aires
to Lima.
We crossed the Andes twice.
I would die to get this poem
to rush like a drug.
Always some will refuse.
Will keep their secret names
and other dimensions.
Their abundant, unyielding
infinite childhood.
The vivid season of edgeless birth.
What would you die for?
From “Hurricane Warnings” (Illuminati Press, Los Angeles, Calif.: $9.95, paper; 88 pp.). Braverman is the author of two previous collections of poems, “Milk Run” and “Lullaby for Sinners” and a novel, “Lithium for Medea.” Her second novel, “Palm Latitudes,” will be published this summer by Simon & Schuster.
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