Gašper Torkar (1992) is a poet and a music producer from Ljubljana, Slovenia. In 2013, he published his debut Podaljšano bivanje at publishing house LUD Literatura. He’s a part of editorial board at IDIOT magazine and writes music with the theatre group DivinaMimesis. Currently he is finishing his second poetry book.

Gašper Torkar (1992) este poet şi producător muzical din Ljubljana, Slovenia. În 2013 a debutat cu Podaljšano bivanje la editura LUD Literatura. Face parte din echipa editorială a revistei IDIOT si compune muzică alături de grupul de teatru DivinaMimesis. Momentan lucrează la a doua lui carte de poezie.

Writing Unto Solitude

I would’ve had to discover poetry by age thirty,
have had my first child with my second wife,
gone bankrupt a third time, tried to ruin someone,
to know what I was missing out on when alone.
Don’t forget what you are fighting for : that
silence you allow others to break into.
Trust, so you can hear them say :
Now you’ve opened up to us, right ? You spoke
and we listened to you. We listened to you
and it was important and you deserved this
after years of silence, after years of listening
to our screaming, which we’ll turn back to
as jauntily as to a walk in spring time,
while all these words will pain you like
the stillness at the end of The Graduate.
Or a perverse interest in suffering.
When I am quiet, I hide nothing.
When I am quiet, I reveal myself to the core.
I have nothing left, not even my lucky matches,
not even feeling jaded by a new melody,
or the twelve-steps list of anonymous alchoholics :
4.) we will undertake a thorough and fearless inventory
of our moral state of being. I’m not prepared
to surrender myself to the hidden hope
that in fact we are perfectly fine. I hope
we are mortal, that death comes as soon as it can
and without discrimination. No, that’s not what
I wanted to say, I was angry & sorry to be so.
That in all the days of our life we would admit
to ourselves whenever we totally fucked up, today too.
But now it’s already dark outside & once more I’ve written
myself to white-out. Somebody came & walked the dog
so I’m alone in the house again, feeling quiet and calm
like a smoker after a cigarette, like after the end of the poem.