yay library

Hooray for the huge library… the weirdly empty Staffnord campus… but mostly hooray for the dark deserted stacks where I sit and browse so happily. I dove into some new translations.

This poet… B3r3nguer… I had only read a few of her poems and browsed a big fat book of weird semi-fictional memoir/poetry/history/strangeness. Now I have read through several books of poems. I also did some collateral looking through all her country’s anthologies to see if she was in them. It is quite fascinating to see she is not in certain ones, though one would expect so. Also who has translated her (not many, but they are all from Prof. F’s orbit.) (I translated her before at F.’s suggestion from some xeroxed pages but was not super impressed. On looking at all of it, nnow, I am way more impressed. and i see why F. thought we would be congenial souls.)

Oh the uncertainties of being a poet and of her nomad exile-y life with I am sure a mixture of respect, fellowships, awards, and being unknown. on her behalf i am pissed off at all the anthologies she is not in. what was Raul Zurrrr1ta thinking???

Was annoyed all over again at reading yet another interminable M. Ag0s1n preface that commits all the worst arrogances I fear to commit myself but she thinks nothing of declaring that there were no women writers and that t hey were unknown and unimportant and then contradicting it by discovering them. there weren’t any, publishing, in any important places which wtf…. reevaluate importance itself for god’s sake. then drivelling on about how it was like discovering shy jewels in an unexplored country. I should hope that most of them would like to slap her (if they were not dead.) no women were known (except Mistral) … etc. etc.. until her heroism discovered them… and of course now everything is Different… though I am standing right in front of a giant row of shelves of books all from chile and all anthologies from 100 years ago and most every one has some women in it, and in the same proportions as the anthologies of today. (rant more off… she just bugs me…)

Read a really great poem by Paul1na Johnson called “the lizard’s tail” in an anthology that i must, must, have…

Someday I will meet all these people in person and will regret having written foolish things speculating on their literary scenes and politics and their anthologies… and will discover that the anthologies I like best were put together by someone sleeping with all of the authors or that someone was only left out because of someone else’s snit and I have been blaming it on the wrong one. Well, I can’t help having my personal reactions and judgements. Am always perfectly willing to change my mind.

Why do most of the s hort biographical descriptions of C.B. leave out all the middle books she wrote in the 80s and 90s? and skip from the early 80s to 2004? Why?

I am translating a lovely crazy scary violent poem about humanitarian bullets that is just my sort of thing. Its leaps of nonlinear sense well i fit right into there and I also like it when people kind of make up words. of course on flesh-shattering bullets you shatter grammar.

I want to do the whole poem-cycle on Bobby S4nds because it’s really cool and wild with typographical breakdown and cutting-up, but I had a guilty thought that Iris would be pissed as hell to see it someday.

This is very nicanor-parra-ish isnt it!


My body for your pleasure
My pride for your lash
My protest for your jail
My hell for your paradise
My amulets for your luck
My craziness for your dreams
My death for your life.

My blog for your profit…

Just got a call. Yehudit can’t meet tomorrow because she’s sick, so I can keep working then too.

Back to the poems.

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