David Chorlton was born in Austria, grew up in rainy Manchester in England, and after spending most of the 1970s in Vienna he moved to Arizona. Since arriving in Phoenix he has pursued his writing, and been active in various capacities in the poetry world. The Bitter Oleander Press recently published his translations from the poetry of Austrian poet Christine Lavant as “Shatter the Bell in my Ear,” adding to collections his own original work over the years of small press activity. He does not complain about the heat, even at the height of summer, but does often register discontent at other circumstances, and come to believe in a balance of aesthetics and edge in art.

The Wolves

Let us journey to that country at the treeline whose people hold
their banners high to honour a deity lost in the ancient snows from which
even gods never return. Let us wear the local costumes and trade
centuries of violence for a day of such peace even the wolves, wracked
with hunger and cold as the stars, find the patience to wait for a blessing.