There goes years. Sometimes quite a lot. Meanwhile takes trips, external and internal. So suddenly it’s time. And now lying on the table between us, the new collection of poems, “And the night whispered Annabel Lee.”
Bruno K Öijer certainly write constantly, incessantly. But not for publication.
– I have probably 70 collections of poetry to the home.
So how do you know when it’s time?
– a feeling that I had enough of everything that happens, as a void that stabs the heart. And I have something to contribute to my fellow man.
Bruno K Öijer have weight together their available black-clad body in one of the publisher’s armchairs. The hat pressed down over the cheeky hårburret. As always. The puffs of water vapor from the e-cigarette.
He smiles a little. Pending. Maybe a little tired of interviews. And the labels pasted on him through the years. Says he does not care:
– They do not stick to me. I do not even wash up them.
recently for a week, he was presented as the “outsider” in an interview.
– If what I write is perceived as an outsider, well then think I feel sorry for this country, he says, and tan large.
– I’m Bruno K Öijer and no one else.
What today means: one read and loved poet. His poetry collections are selling like hot cakes, the past came up in clean tranströmerska editions, eight-nine times larger than a “normal” poetry edition. And his poem reader tours goes to full houses.
Bruno K Öijer love being on stage, has done it since his debut in the 70′s. He speaks of it as a “gift”, the response he gets, all the dreams and hopes that are out there.
– I realized early on that it is not enough to publish books. I want to reach out, alter, and make it through my language.
If he thrives on stage, he is than the more careful not to spill their private me around. He declines the “99.9 percent of all queries,” definitely not involved in Coffee and game shows. No, its freedom and integrity, he warns about.
And it is here somewhere as we start talking about Indians. North America. If Tasunke Witko, called Crazy Horse.
– He has followed me since childhood, an amazing man full of self-esteem and resistance. A truly free person. He could never be defeated in battle, never wrote any agreements with the white man. And let himself never photographed.
Bruno K Öijer has raised his voice a little, leaning forward.
– Smohalla, do you know him? No, not many people do it, but I think that people get well Googling.
The words rapids until now, about the indianske Smohalla leader who spoke of the spiritual and physical pollution that the whites brought with them. If his words, “wisdom comes to us in the form of dreams and men who work do not have time to dream.” And if the poem that bears Smohallas name.
– The end of the poem – “If you cut deep enough / in the body politic / encounter you always on cynicism / cast iron letters / and summarized in a single line / work and do right for himself “- refers to the dreadful sign at Auschwitz” Arbeit macht frei “. And on the work line, which all go on about. The poem is there, we just can not be identified by our works, we are spiritual beings as well.
“And the night whispered Annabel Lee” has a low-intensity blazing cover, designed by his wife, artist Maya Eizin Öijer.
– Compared with “Black as silver” is this more autobiographical. It stretches from when I start in sixth grade to date. I report things more openly here, such as previously described more philosophical.
All Bruno K Öijer poems have been defending their place in the fierce competition. This time it was around 50 which got put to one side, poems, he never looks at.
– The choice I make in relation to where I am in life, what happens in life and surroundings.
But the book’s leitmotif is unknown to him when he starts.
– I have no idea what to write, begins literally with a white sheet. Will there be any? Is imagination the end, well then I’m out as a writer. That’s it.
and the title’s Annabel Lee?
– It is one of the most beautiful love poems ever written. I’ve always liked Edgar Allan Poe, he wrote the poem just before his death of his wife, Virginia, who died too young.
Annabel Lee shows up in the book’s final poem “Everyone was there.” There is also Hemingway, in its third drink, and an acidic Baudelaire who snaps at Walt Whitman. Emily Dickinson, Rimbaud and César Vallejo, Maupassant, Lorca and Dostoevsky meet at the same restaurant as Keats and Shelley, Humphrey Bogart and Albert Camus. The same tavern where the bartender trying to shake some life into a sleeping William Blake – and the same tavern where poetic self is looking for a free table.
You would think that Bruno K Öijer throughout is a big city guy. But the majority of his lyrics come to far into the deep woods.
– I’m not saying where it is, but there are just wild animals, trees, and lakes. It is a spiritual sanctuary of silence. Forests are important to me.
– And you will never famous until the clouds, the trees and the rain reads you, messes he suddenly poetic voice and smile a little.
No, it is not quite easy to know when Bruno K Öijer is serious or messing with one.
he would be a poet was not obvious. In öijerska home were not many books – Jack London’s “White fang”, a vissamling of Evert Taube, the first part of Moberg’s emigrant series. It was the school library which opened the door to the literature.
But early on, he experienced the feeling of not wanting to go along with the general rules of the game.
– As early as seven or eight years old, I began to look for expedients. I found them in the imagination, always had stories in my head, I talked loud to myself in the schoolyard.
But if someone tried to bully him, they got a beating. Well, he was a fighter too.
On the last page you meet Bruno K Öijer eye to eye on a black and white photo. Poet with a capital P stands on an embankment with smokes the peg. And an old typewriter forearm.
– Yes, but I write on. I have a plethora of typewriters. I start by hand, then I go over to the acoustic typewriter. The closer to the finished script, the better machine. Finally I write purely on electric.
Is there even ribbon to get?
– Sure. Nothing is impossible, you know. You I have to rush now, is that okay?
Addressed hat and disappears.
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