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Wednesday, July 10th, 2013
Wow! Laura Healy's translation of The Unknown University has been published! Go buy it and read it, everybody!
posted evening of July 10th, 2013: Respond
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Friday, July 5th, 2013
Aquà que tengas tinta y secante
pluma negra de cuervo ya largo tiempo
muerto a tu naciemiento
pido
pido que me escribas
a mÃ
me dice
tus relatos complicados y lejos
de aquÃ
tus pretextos más
bien hechos
que tendrÃa a leer
algo divertido
algo
últimamente
sin sentido.
posted evening of July 5th, 2013: 4 responses
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Christine is in England, learning about Rare Books cataloging. She sends along this lovely photo, of a betuxed jazz band covering John Denver: Happy trails, CK!
posted afternoon of July 5th, 2013: Respond
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 Today I am submitting my translation of Marta Aponte's story "1955: Lavender Mist" (edited by Scott Esposito) to the Close Approximations contest. I want to thank Marta for the story, which is magnificent, and for her readings and corrections of my translation; also to thank Scott for his invaluable suggestions which (IMO of course) have turned a good translation into a great one -- I am billing the piece as translated by me in collaboration with Scott. Very excited -- I could imagine this story being selected; and if that does not happen, as of course it may well not, I believe it will be relatively easy to find another publisher. Beautiful images abound in this story; here is one of my favorites. Señor Suárez is in the vestibule of the unfamiliar Museum of Modern Art, making his way to the exhibit whose opening he has been invited to:
Outside, the chestnut smoke was thickening, the space seeming to gain in scope what it lost in sharpness. It gave the impression of a canvas that you've covered with a layer of gray paint, in hopes that from the stillness of this interior, from the depths of this lake will burst forth some new, some unexpected creation. Something fashioned from the shards of memory, which darken and fade but are never lost; which will take you by surprise as they now took him by surprise, looking down at his orphan hands, blue and knotty. He might have fallen useless at the feet of these barbaric columns, had he not suddenly overheard someone saying the name — it was like a change of scenery coming in from the wings — of Pollock; had he not seen the two women walking, with the assurance of sturdy windmills, toward the elevator.
posted morning of July 5th, 2013: 2 responses
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Thursday, July 4th, 2013
posted afternoon of July 4th, 2013: 1 response
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Saturday, June 29th, 2013
 divídeme por favor
exactamente por el medio
despégame con tus manos la piel
y arranca los huesos
con tus dedos
es mi carne, cómela, digo,
pero déjame por favor la sangre.
sepárame por supuesto
de todo conocido
llevaré en cubos la sangre
mi sangre olorosa mientras busco
corazón
(y ¿cómo vas llevarlos sin huesos? preguntas y te pido permiso)
y hacemos viajes y aventuras sobre continentes
obscenos y ridículos
posted morning of June 29th, 2013: 3 responses
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Sunday, June 23rd, 2013
Today's Mountain Station practice tape has no annoying video, just audio of four fine songs.
Download from box and put it on your pod...
posted evening of June 23rd, 2013: Respond
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Saturday, June 22nd, 2013
Un Sentido del Lugarpor Félix Fojas
tr. Jeremy Osner
Cada poema necesita
un sentido de época y lugar.
Cada poema debe existir
en el lugar nativo de su
corazón o de su pensaje
En un momento determinado y
una fecha memorable que rebosa
de cosas actuales prolongadas
como una mosca que aterriza en una fruta
o un joven mientras besa la primera:
un perro que busca a un hueso seco
o un gato aullante
que da zarpazos a una rata aterrada.
O tal vez se esculpe el poema
simplemente del aire enrarecido
y se halle simplemente a ninguna parte.
Tenga siempre en cuenta que
El lector medio tiene miedo
de explorar a un pueblo
fantasma
y prefiere siempre oler
la aroma de alguna flor salvaje,
el sabor jugoso de una naranja,
o la lluvia de la primavera que se moje
y sus hojas verdes que hagan rumores
y bailen en las brisas.
posted evening of June 22nd, 2013: 1 response
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Wednesday, June 19th, 2013
Translation, by Peggy Schutze Shearn;
via The New Post-literate.
posted evening of June 19th, 2013: Respond
➳ More posts about Pretty Pictures
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Yo voy escuchando en las músicas que suenan
entre corredores negros y tan largos que se desvanecen
todavÃa no recuerdo las lecturas -- pensativo
frunciré me rascaré apartaré
la mirada triste
Estoy escribiendo sobre rÃos y lecturas
y las pildores que necesito para emociones puras
y virilidad la que mofo pero ocultamente deseo
miéntras gano a duras penas
mi recreo
No voy reluciendo, no podrÃa soportarlo
yo no quiero agarrarlos a MarÃa y tonto Carlos
pero sé que todavÃa su secreto queda oscuro
soy inquieto, no entiendo, nunca voy a descansar
hasta todo lo que busco se revele
posted evening of June 19th, 2013: Respond
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