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Thursday, July 18th, 2013
Did you hear about this one?
Kaufman's transformation into Elvis revealed that Foreign Man's sad, sweaty failure, his abjection, had been just part of the show all along; Elvis released the audience from the discomfort Foreign Man had created, because if Elvis was the reality then Foreign Man was just a mask, and this was somehow comforting.
-- Alex Pappademas
posted evening of July 18th, 2013: Respond
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por Félix Fojas
tr. Jeremy Osner
Intenté lo mejor que pudo a hacer
Pacto imperecedero con mi propia
Sombra intransigente
A no me hostigar y no seguirme
En todas partes donde voy, a
Guardar distancia cómoda,
Tal vez una milia lejos
De los altares de mi
Presencia, no sea que me presente
Para sanción legal, formada
De interdicto que la fuerce
Continuamente a someterse
Respetar a mi intimidad
Y a cambio soy receptivo a
Conceder a mi acechador
Persistente
Libertad completa todo
El mundo a vagar de Azerbayán
Hasta exótico, remoto Zanzibar.
Quedaba espantado y sorprendido
Cuando mi álter ego rasgó en pedazos
Nuestro contrato en curso
Por sus colmillos filosos y
Rechazó vehemente a signarlo
Con imprenta de lengua o
Con huella de pata, por razón
Simple de que perderÃa
Dignidad total, todo sentido
De ser, o sea me seguir
En todas partes donde quiera.
Nuestro pacto no es vinculante sino
Es un punto muerto como las fauces
Enormes abiertas del Grand Canyon
Sobrecogedoro. ¿Quo vadis,
Tú grayhound rabioso?
Con la nariz olfateas como
Varita de zahori y tus orejas
Agudas son radares
Sensibles. Y sin embargo
No puedo tu culo desnudo
Aun patear o empatar
Tu cola meneante alrededor
De tu cuello flacucho como Nudo
Gordiano y te estrangular de
Una vez por todas a tÃ
Que me más fastidias.
Los Angeles
July 16, 2013
posted evening of July 18th, 2013: Respond
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Monday, July 15th, 2013
posted evening of July 15th, 2013: Respond
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Sunday, July 14th, 2013
posted evening of July 14th, 2013: Respond
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Saturday, July 13th, 2013
Escrita libremente: ando siguiendo a ciegas senderos bifurcados de asociación viniendo últimamente de una lÃnea al principio de La reina isabel cantaba rancheras.
te arrastra neurálgicamente
—como aguja de tocadiscos—
a través de la lÃnea que nos separa
uno del otro a nosotros humanos
te convierte en un yo u en
algún otro si prefieres. Te
identifica como los que encuentres.
en todo,
tu hermano
Nosotros hicimos viaje tu y yo: nos encontramos encima de
las montañas en el sudeste
de Oaxaca,
encantados de las vistas
y el aire y aunque
no tan seguros
de nuestra futura como pareja,
en todos casos felices y sólidos los dos.
El sol brilliante por encima de Hierve el Agua lustraba hermoso sobre las cataratas de piedra.
Las parejas y los muchachos jugueteaban en la piscina que borda
la punta de vista y los observé meditando sobre nuestra aventura hasta ahora. Me habÃa dado cuenta de la frecuencia de los grupos que en caminata aventuraban subir al cerro al borde del acantilado, en contravención por supesto de los avisos que no pise el precipicio... Decidimos no mucho peso dar las advertencias cuando và los números de caminantes.
Dormimos aquella noche a la punta de salida de la catarate de cal y el amanecer estuvo estupendo.
la ficción como la poesÃa es experimento en perspectiva. O mejor "la poesÃa como la ficción".
Eres piedra que piso. Mira ahora arriba a mi esquéleto, a mis genitales y otros huecos, otros rastros, no discutimos de quien, tu cara frÃa y rÃgida.
Miraste fuerte y paciente a bajo mientras escudriñaba el paisaje curiosamente estérilo y artificial buscando presa.
CaÃste en picada y te despertaste del sueño.
posted evening of July 13th, 2013: Respond
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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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