W G Sebald in NJ
I think he himself said something like his poetry doesn't rise to level of his prose, but this poem is somewhat interesting, especially because it's a companion piece to the story he tells in The Emigrants. * New Jersey Journey Spent two hours at the end of December on the Garden State Highway In the ancient Ford’s trunk nothing but my heart grown heavier year by year A protracted catastrophe: the constant river of traffic the endless business of overtaking vicious eye-contact with total strangers in the adjacent lane Driven by yearning for its prehistoric brothers a Jumbo climbs out of Newark airport over marshes and lagoons a giant smoking mountain of rubbish and the countless lights of the refineries Mile after mile of stunted trees telegraph poles fields of blueberries a Siberian countryside colonized then run to seed with moribund supermarkets abandoned poultry farms haunted by millions and millions of breakfast eggs harboring the undeciphered sighs of an en...
