Poetry – Page 23 – coldhearted scientist وداد

We’re going to let it shine

19/08/2014

“I’m so glad I’m fighting for my rights, singing glory Hallelujah, I’m so glad.” #OccupyHE Axé.

Is the way these poems work in part by having an auditory aspect, a soundtrack that does not quite fit what is emerging visually? And to have a sense of touch working in still a third way? I do not have time to work this out now but there is something symphonic happening, or some … More Dérèglement des sens

Virginia Woolf

04/08/2014

To write one needs money and a room of one’s own, it is said, but I say one needs access to self, a clean and well lit space (or an otherwise adequately comfortable one), and peace of mind. Without these things no methodologies apply — even those which do otherwise, like Archambeau’s. Today’s reading indicates … More Virginia Woolf

Some gossip about Vallejo

13/07/2014

He had an affair with the woman living across the street from his family in Stgo. de Chuco, who was the former “wife” of a priest. Poems like “Verano” are about her. He lost her to Carlos Santa María … all of this was in 1915 but I wonder whether it contributes to the events … More Some gossip about Vallejo

Silvia Goldman

05/07/2014

Some time ago I was a referee for this article and liked it. I see the journal agreed, because the piece is out … so I know who wrote it. Now we should all read more things by Silvia Goldman. #OccupyHE Axé.

Desgaste (fragmento)

01/07/2014

… Hubimos máquinas de coser, máquinas de guerra y rayadores manuales para las verduras que eran blancas y espesas: leche adicionada con hierro fortalezas: capitales de nuestra acumulación derrames que lubricaban los utensilios. Construimos cuartos blancos en los que pastaban cuadrillas de caballos a galope, racimos de mariposas en la piel y máquinas: máquinas de … More Desgaste (fragmento)

Division Street

23/05/2014

I was looking for an older, American poem about Division Street I read long ago and found this 2008 piece by Helen Mort. You brought me here to break it off one muggy Tuesday. A brewing storm, the pigeons sleek with rain. My black umbrella flexed its wings. Damp-skinned, I made for the crush of … More Division Street

Trilce XXVIII

16/05/2014

He almorzado solo ahora, y no he tenido madre, ni súplica, ni sírvete, ni agua, ni padre que, en el facundo ofertorio de los choclos, pregunte para su tardanza de imagen, por los broches mayores del sonido. Cómo iba yo a almorzar. Cómo me iba a servir de tales platos distantes esas cosas, cuando habráse … More Trilce XXVIII