Katzenkonzert David Teniers
La fiesta es humanidad patológica, amplificada.
Eres humana, piensas.
Has venido aquí para consumar la transformación en otro cuerpo. En otra persona. Que quema los ropajes conductuales responsables de su decadencia en el seno de la esfera. Que viene a poner los puntos…
be my little bug
Esta semana en Los Perros Románticos la anfitrona es Aleida Belem Salazar. En este día ella nos recomienda dos poemas de Cristina Rivera Garza. Que los disfruten.
Yo las vi
Las manecillas persiguiéndose una a la otra
dardos, hormigas punzando bajo las manos
Autor: José María Martínez*
"APUESTAS - Nueve nuevos poetas" (La Bella Varsovia, 2014)
Hay libros que pueden esperar, pero hay otros que piden ser asumidos de inmediato. "Apuestas" pertenece a la segunda categoría: la inmersión en sus páginas nos descubrirá "nueve nuevos poetas"…
Luna Miguel has new stuff out!
The first is in Powder Keg translated by Kimi Traube. It’s from La tumba del marinero (The Sailor’s Grave) and I only recently found out that the title is a Pynchon reference. Check it, first page of V.
My mother is a classical woman trapped in this classical world. My mother is patient and affectionate; she likes to cuddle me. My mother and I kiss each other on the mouth when we embrace. My Phoenician mother tried to describe Homer’s rosy-fingered dawn to me, tried to explain his metaphors and since then I haven’t known how to invent a single one. Maybe because I already learned them all years ago. Maybe because they all remind me of her. My mother didn’t read The Iliad to me, she read The Odyssey. How could I read you The Iliad, Luna? she’d say to me. It’s too bloody a book for a little girl! Too bloody? Too bloody? Blood is the nectar of poets. All blood is worthy of a poem. All that menstruates is worthy of a poem. Too much blood for a girl who’s four or five or a hundred years old.
The second piece is in Buenos Aires Review translated by Julia Ostmann. A lit mag I like a lot but I don’t check often enough. I’m not sure where this piece is from. Maybe from Los estómagos (The Stomachs) or it could be completely new.
I can invent a lullaby for deaf children, the only thing missing is a voice, the only thing missing is a long neck where we can resound.
I can say that we are scared.
I can say that hunger is an invention of our teeth so they don’t feel so alone.
I can write the word cancer a thousand times, because cancer reproduces a thousand times. It is a relentless killer, and I am also a relentless killer, and I swear I will get my revenge.
I can dream I’m kissing a made-up poet.
I can dream I’m a drop of acid rain.
I can use up all my Candy Crush lives until I finally feel that I have died. That I have died in the magical world of the candies.
I can leave the gas on.
I can light all the candles.
I can invite domestic catastrophes, cut off my finger, or cut off my nipple, or cut off a single hair and afterward eat up all my remains.
New poem “You had glitter on your fingers” at The Buenos Aires Review
Nuevo poema “Tenías purpurina en los dedos” en The Buenos Aires Review.
Versión en español:
Gracias a Pola Oloixarac y a Fernando Montes
<3 <3 <3 <3
<3 <3 <3 <3
and bad blood
thank you very much, Zoe & Kimi
Are you as excited as we are for the fall lineup? A prepublication sale just for you: 33% off all titles. No coupon required. Have at it!
PB of TRANCES OF THE BLAST by MARY RUEFLE
ECODEVIANCE by CACONRAD
RED JUICE: POEMS 1998-2008 by HOA NGUYEN
THING MUSIC by ANTHONY MCCANN
RETRIEVALS by GARRETT CAPLES
WALLLESS SPACE by ERNST MEISTER trans. by GRAHAM GOUST & SAMUEL FREDERICK
in the mood for clean!
peterbd predicting my death, along w/ 39 other deaths, via 40 likely to die before 40: an introduction to alt lit