Poetry
Bourne's poetry has been published in American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, Indiana Review, Salmagundi, Shenandoah, The Journal, and North American Review. His poetry has also been widely anthologized.
In the award citation for the 2003 Edges Prize, won by Bourne for Where No One Spoke the Language, poet Carolyne Wright praises Bourne for his ability to "make the strange familiar," writing that "Bourne speaks, across borders of linguistic and national difference, a profoundly human language for us all." This collection "is worldly in the best sense: drawing on the author's extensive time in Poland, the poems meditate on history and cross-cultural perspectives. With intellectual depth and range, Bourne's poems bring the reader into a larger consciousness about our place on the earth."
The poet, William Heyen, writes, "What Daniel Bourne has done here is something I haven't heard done yet--Charles Simic's surreal mode grounded, but with Simic's knowledge of Eastern Europe. Remarkable and relentless, Where No One Spoke the Language achieves a voice of exile deeper than any I've heard from an American poet since The Waste Land." Indeed, before its publication, Where No One Spoke the Language was a finalist for the T.S. Eliot prize in poetry in 2003.
Bourne's poetry has been translated into Polish and Hungarian. In Hungary, it appeared in Magyar Napló, the official literary magazine of the Hungarian Writers' Union. In Poland, it appeared in Odra and Topos. His poem "Vigilia" and the title poem of his book, "Where No One Spoke the Language," were published under the pseudonym Jerzy Sarna in the illegal underground literary journal, Obecnosc, during martial law.
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Famous quotes containing the word poetry:
“That’s why I quit and took up writing poetry instead.
It’s clean, it’s relaxing, it doesn’t squirt juice all over
Something you were certain of a minute ago and now your own face
Is a stranger and no one can tell you it’s true. Hey, stupid!”
—John Ashbery (b. 1927)
“Good artists exist simply in what they make, and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in what they are. A really great poet is the most unpoetical of all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible. He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise.”
—Oscar Wilde (1854–1900)
“Much poetry seems to be aware of its situation in time and of its relation to the metronome, the clock, and the calendar. ... The season or month is there to be felt; the day is there to be seized. Poems beginning “When” are much more numerous than those beginning “Where” of “If.” As the meter is running, the recurrent message tapped out by the passing of measured time is mortality.”
—William Harmon (b. 1938)