A project I've been working on a while: "Funeral Rites," by Chilean poet Raúl Zurita, in English translation. Many thanks to Héctor Hernández Montecinos; to the fantastic editors of #AmsterdamReview; and to Zurita for trusting his voice in my hands.
www.amsterdamreview.org/funeral-rite...
Why yes indeed...
AGAINST THE ENCROACHING GRAYS I held up the femur of a grasshopper some blue air fell over me what I want is less clear to me now than it was then to be loved to the end without ruth or recrimination to forgive myself as others have forgiven me to enjoy the birds with little bones at the farmers' market I still see his truck from time to time notices on utility poles for a lost dog answering to Scout sometimes I sit in a café pretending to read but knowing I want to be the one to find Scout instead I do what I have done I wake up and join the struggle of the trees to find a way through and then a dark clot of poetry breaks off
to be loved to the end / without ruth or recrimination
C.D. Wright
mothers of saffron, fathers / of insurrection
POEM The ewe rejects her lamb & so anticipates All philosophy
happy #smallpoemsunday! 💜
feel free to share small poems you love by other poets, or ones you wrote :)
this week I got my first physical copy of my new book MOUNTEBANK, so for the next couple Sundays l’ll be sharing small poems from it — starting with this one 🐑
REUNION When Odysseus has returned at last unrecognizable to Ithaca and killed the suitors swarming the throne room, very delicately he signals to Telemachus to depart: as he stood twenty years ago, he stands now before Penelope. On the palace floor, wide bands of sunlight turning from gold to red. He tells her nothing of those years, choosing to speak instead exclusively of small things, as would be the habit of a man and woman long together: once she sees who he is, she will know what he's done. And as he speaks, ah, tenderly he touches her forearm.
Closing this run of Louise Glück poems with a personal favourite
I still think about this a lot.
february, still. from *the deering hour* (Ornithopter).
Wow.
5: Then Gently, gently, with a voluntary kindness, the hand does the work because the world needs to be touched. There is a button, and there is a shoulder, and there is a darkness, and there is something on the other side. Darkness like a shadow thrown across a field, pulled with one hand and thrown with the other, boats in the river, birds in flight. The birds, dark birds, they fly from his hand to land... elsewhere. So many darknesses thrown into the future. Someone else's problem. The garden is covered in snow. Dark coats falling out of the sky.
Richard Siken, born on this day in 1967
Shut down Dilley. Stop the opening of the Social Circle, GA detention center. Boycott GlobalX Airlines' deportation flights out of Miami, FL.
from The Lincoln Review, no. 6
www.lincolnreview.org
Gorgeous!! Can't wait to read!
A Calendar of Hares Anna Crowe for Valerie Gillies 1. At the raw end of winter the mountain is half snow, half dun grass. Only when snow moves does it become a hare. 2. If you can catch a hare and look into its eye, you will see the whole world. 3. That day in March watching two hares boxing at the field’s edge, she felt the child quicken. 4. It is certain Midas never saw a hare or he would not have lusted after gold. 5. When the buzzard wheels like a slow kite overhead the hare pays out the string. 6. The man who tells you he has thought of everything has forgotten the hare. 7. The hare’s form, warm yet empty. Stumbling upon it, he felt his heart lurch and race beneath his ribs. 8. Beset by fears, she became the hare who hears the mowers’ voices growing louder. 9. Light as the moon’s path over the sea, the run of the hare over the land. 10. The birchwood a dapple of fallen gold: a carved hare lies in a Pictish hoard. 11. Waking to the cry of a hare she ran and found the child sleeping. 12. November stiffens into December: hare and grass have grown a thick coat of frost.
At the raw end of winter
the mountain is half snow, half
dun grass. Only when snow
moves does it become a hare…
—Anna Crowe, “A Calendar of Hares”
published in A SECRET HISTORY OF RHUBARB (Mariscat, 2004)
#poem #poetry
annacrowepoet.com/2021/04/21/a...
Renee Nicole Good (Macklin). 2020 Academy of American Poets Prize, Old Dominion University, "On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs."
make room for wonder
poets.org/2020-on-lear...
Congrats, Mary!! Can't wait to see this out! ❤️
Oh thank god, I've been waiting for this.
Spotlight on Two Poems by Susana Thénon, trans. from the Spanish by Karen Elizabeth Bishop. "Advent" and "She"
tahomaliteraryreview.com/selections/t...
Can't wait to hear this! 🔥
[and love], a new poem in translation by the inimitable late Argentine poet Susana Thénon. From collection of selected works in progress, Many Suns. Many thanks to Robin Myers for curating and eds at Poetry Northwest for hosting.
www.poetrynw.org/poetry/and-l...
Rutgers, this Friday! Join us!!
Academic friends, students, friends of friends: a fantastic opportunity to join us at Rutgers next year for a seminar on TRANSLATION at our beloved Center for Cultural Analysis. The fabulous Jeff Lawrence & Preetha Mani will lead. You couldn't be in better hands. Post-doc applications now LIVE!
ECHOED : familiar but unrecognizable : this "b" for that "v" sound : whenever they blame the victim : each room swarming with ants... : how I let her down; I let her down; let her down
More from Eve Luckring ♥️
from SIGNAL TO NOISE (Ornithopter Press)
Happy #smallpoemsunday!
@thetenderbetween.bsky.social
@ornithopterpress.bsky.social
@tomsnarsky.bsky.social
“No sibling, no mother. Her / paws were dry magic beads. I touched them.”
bewitched by this poem. Feral, @jessicacuello.bsky.social
Oh gosh, thank you so much, and for reading!! 🌱
Fantastic. A joy to read.🔥🌱
Delighted to be part of Uncharted Territories, a fantastic project from the Steamroller Group, in collaboration with The Hunterdon Museum and River Union Stage. Poets and printmakers in visual conversation. What a joy.
Stephen is the greatest. 🔥
