you became real to me fatherwhen I saw you fly over me from beneath the wavesa bone-white door against the cloud-white ceilinglooking for me, flapping and furiousI watched you in the dark as you slept…
Poetry
- Ah the Raj! Our mother-incarnate Victoria Imperatrix rules the sceptred sphere overseeing legions of maidens’ “fishing fleets” that break the waves to net the love of a heaven Eton…
- My small worldlies suspended betweenthe four walls of your house.There is no entry sign,yet my life, leashed to it,keeps moving endless round and round.From wherever I startI reach your house,…
- I spread out earth’s green bedI pull in sky’s blue veilI place sun and moon on two pillowsI remove grass’s attireI indulge in play with you.Translation from the Hindi By Sudeep…
- Here, every child is scared to playHere, every squirrel has a bullet-proof home Here, every old man wants to commit suicideThere is no difference between a soldier and a manNo difference between…
- How sweet the past is, no matter how wrong, or how sad. …
- Was it a Sunday eveningWhen you left a window carelessly openYou rang first that gong of betrayal?Was it one high noonWhen you thoughtlessly fed her bones of the lambYou sang first that litany of dupl…
- The Flower and the Hummingbird (En español) The Flower and the Hummingbird ¡Tengo un c…
- Bidaani’Ruyadxie’ lii sica ruyadxi guragu’ guibá’,ribaque chaahue’ lii ndaani’ guiña candanaxhi guiriziñaguidilade’ ruxhele guirá guie’ bizeecabe lu xpidaane’ guirá nguiiu ne biu…
- womanif you had nothing but jazzwhat would you choosefor the child in your wombto listen tobefore the spring of milk starts to flow?only bill evansplaying glass beadson a keyboardof ice crystals…
- the bossa novasof the'60saccompanied bythe vaguely irregularvaguely neuroticrim shotsof the stickclicking horizontallyon the snare drumfrom the perspectiveof the 21st century –a sort of clockworktick-…
- Virgil Mihaiu/text & Alan Tomlinson/trombone A historical document from the beginnings of the JAZZOGRAPHICS, here in their embryonic nucleus: Virgil Mihaiu/text & Alan Tomlinson/trombone.…
- Dumitru Belinschi / keyboards & piano; Marius Gagiu / flute & percussion; Mario Florescu / drums & percussion; Virgil Mihaiu / poetry & percussionThis audio sample is recorded fragment…
- When I realized I could make mistakes . . . I decided I was really on to something. — Ornette Coleman …
- I met Monk on a subway, coming through the tunnel. His words fell out be- tween thick…
- As a child he’d been feeding on sea stories, sea people, sea adventures. Benign and adverse sea, calm and rough, emeraldand leaden. Tale after tale, book after book, devoured byinsane desires, ad…
- 同居他们将在街头同人生的三个意向相遇： 老人烟斗的余火、儿童涂写在墙上的笔迹 和湿漉漉的雨中行走的女人的小腿......他们徘徊了一整夜 围绕小白房子寻找标记 太阳升起来了，归宿仍不能断决 错误就从这时发生 没有经过祈祷 他们就会睡到一张床上 并且毫不顾忌室外光线 在晚些时候…
- Irma Pineda "You Will Not See Me Die" Natalia Toledo "The Weaver" "For T.S. Eliot" Victor Terán "I Know Your Body"
- Translator’s note: Feliciano Sánchez Chan is among a growing group of poets (including Briceida Cuevas Cob and Isaac Carrillo Can) writing modern verse in the ancient language of Mayan.…
- The four recordings here are from Poet in Andalucía, forthcoming from the University of Pittsburgh Press in January 2012. "Tree of Red Leaves, Jaén" "Prophet in Andalucía"…
- Plan BWe’re trundling down Via Balbipast palaces of glory and endless virtue.We’re fecund with children, we’re good at thatand some of us have rabbits in our pockets.We are fluent in sundry dialectsan…
- The MothersFar from being goddesses or sibyls:the poor motherssuffering from migrainescrushed by the heart’s servitude. Dear LifeDear life,you chose colourless places,anonymous hours,the tritest…
- Ascanio Celestini - "Fabbrica", Teatro Ambra Jovinelli, Rome, March 2007 Photo: Maila Iacovelli - Fabio Zayed/Spot the Difference I have a technique.When I attend a meeting, I sit down…
- When with my judgment I laymyself out to the tepid peace of every day,the docile afternoons, the wide and naturalsleep, no longer opposed to the climatethat equal and still caresses me instead– the cl…
- A turkey-oak two hundred years old nowno one has pollarded. Beneath itthere live vipers – woody elbows acheagainst the back. And one nightupon the roots, you rebelled, and with such violenceas to rema…
December 19, 2024
December 02, 2024
