August 25, 2011

Seyhan Erözçelik's death

I am sad to report that Seyhan Erözçelik , the significant Turkish poet died today, at the age of 49. He was still writing important new poetry.

Seyhan Erözçelik [Turkey]

Born on March 13, 1962 in Bartin, a town in the Black Sea region of Turkey, Seyhan Erözçelik studied psychology at Boğaziçi University and oriental languages at Istanbul University. In 1986 he co-founded the Șiir Ati (Poetry Horse) publishing house which published over forty titles in the 1980s. He is a member of the Turkish Pen Center and Writer's Syndicate of Turkey. He lived in Istanbul.

For an announcement of his death, click here:

August 10, 2011

interview-review, "Conversational Critic, Talking Poet David Antin" by Robert Pincus

For an interview-review of David Antin by Robert Pincus in the San Diego Reader, click below:

Kenneth Rexroth reading "Married Blues" with a jazz combo

For an audio, with jazz combo, with Kenneth Rexroth reading "Married Blues," click here:

Ezra Pound interviewed by Pier Paolo Pasolini

To hear Pier Paolo Pasolini interview Ezra Pound in Italian (1967), click below:

essay on T. S. Eliot, "The Avant Garde," by Marjorie Perloff

essay on T. S. Eliot, "The Avant Garde," by Marjorie Perloff

another essay on "Avant-Garde Eliot" by Marjorie Perloff

For an essay, "Avant-Garde Eliot" by Marjorie Perloff, click here:

Kenneth Rexroth interviewed by Jerome Rothenberg and David Antin at the Five Spot

For an interview with Jerome Rothenberg and David Antin with poet Kenneth Rexroth at the Five Spot in New York, click below:



Begun in 1933 as an experimental school based on the principles of John Dewey, Black Mountain College, located in rural North Carolina, quickly attracted a large number of artists, dancers, writers, musicians, and other avant-gardists, including figures such as Josef Albers, John Cage, Merce Cunningham, Willem and Elaine de Kooning, Buckminster Fuller, Walter Gropius and Charles Olson. The College also invited numerous important figures for guest lectures, Albert Einstein, Clement Greenberg, and William Carlos Williams, among them.

In 1950 Charles Olson became the College Rector, the same year he published his seminal essay, "Projective Verse," which called for an "open field" composition opposed to traditional, more closed forms. For Olson poetry was to be based on the line, and the line represented a unit of breath, an utterance that lead from "one perception immediately directly [leading] to a further perception."

The essay, highly influential, became a kind of manifesto for the poets and students he had gathered around him at the College. These poets included Larry Eigner, Robert Duncan, Ed Dorn, Paul Blackburn, Hilda Morley, John Wieners, Denise Levertov, Jonathan Williams, and Robert Creeley, the latter who taught at the College and edited for two years its Black Mountain Review, before moving to San Francisco, when the College closed in 1957.

Other poets associated with this broadly-based group, included Paul Blackburn, Paul Carroll, William Bronk, Cid Corman, Joel Oppenheimer, Theodore Enslin, Ebbe Borregard, Russell Edson, M. C. Richards, and Michael Rumaker, some of whom did not attend the College but were influenced, nonetheless, by the poetry and Olson's viewpoints. Indeed, numerous other poets, including Beat writers such as Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, and other figures such as Gary Synder, Michael McClure, and Philip Whalen were also influenced in their poetry and poetics.

The "group" has had wide influence over the years, not only for American poets such as the "Language" writers, but has effected British poets such as Tom Raworth, J. H. Prynne, and others.

There have been numerous books on Black Mountain College and the Black Mountain Poets, including:

Steven Carter, Bearing Across: Studies in Science and Literature (Oxford, England: International Scholars Publications, 1999); Fielding Dawson, The Black Mountain Book, a New Edition (Rocky Mount, North Carolina: North Carolina Wesleyan College Press, 1991); Edward Halsey Foster, Understanding the Black Mountain Poets (Columbia, South Carolina, 1995); Melvin Lane, ed. Black Mountain College: An Anthology of Personal Accounts (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1990); and Sherman Paul, Olson's Push: Origin, Black Mountain and Recent American Poetry (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1978). Martin Duberman's Black Mountain: An Exploration in Community (New York: Dutton, 1972) explores the wider implications of the College.

—Douglas Messerli

For a site devoted to The Black Mountain Poets, click here:

For an audio of Robert Creeley discussing Black Mountain College and his relationship to it, click here:

August 9, 2011

Syrian-born poet Adonis on President Assad of Syria

Syrian-born poet Adonis asks Syrian President Assad to step down, click here:

John Wieners, a video of his last public reading

For a video of the last public reading of John Wieners, click here:

Faiz Ahmad Faiz

Faiz Ahmad Faiz (b. British India/Pakistan)

Faiz Ahmad Faiz was born in Kala Kader, a village in Sialkot, Punjab in what was then British India in 1911. His father was Sultan Mohammad Khan and his mother, the Sultan's youngest wife, Fatima.

Faiz was sent, as is standard in a Muslim family, to the Masjid or mosque for religious studies at an early age. Later he attended the Scotch Mission School for an academic education, and then transferred to Murray College, Punjab for an intermediate education. Among his influential teachers there were Yousuf Saleem Chisti, who taught Urdu, and Shams-ul-Ullamah Syed Mir Hasan, the professor of Arabic.

Faiz acquired a M.A. at the Government College in Lahore in English Literature, and then attended the Oriental College, also in Lahore, to obtain an M.A. in Arabic Literature.

In 1936 Faiz created a branch of the Progressive Writers' Movement in Punjab, serving as Secretary, and editor of its monthly magazine, Mahnama. The year before he became a lecturer in English at M. A. O. College in Amritsar, and soon after at Hailey College of Commerce in Lahore.

Faiz briefly joined the British Indian Army, and was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in 1944. Three years later he resigned his post, returning to Lahore to become the first chief editor of the Pakistan Times.

Faiz had joined the Communist party early in his career, and throughout the 1950s and 1960s he worked at promoting the cause of Communism in Pakistan. His involvement with the military headed by Major General Akbar Khan, who attempted to overthrow the Pakistani government, led to his imprisonment and a sentence of death. He was released four years later.

In 1959, he was appointed as the Secretary for the Pakistan Arts Council, working in that position until 1962, spending much of his time abroad, particularly in London.

Returning from London in 1964, Faiz settled in Karachi, where he was appointed Principal at Abdullah Haroon College. Later, he continued his career in journalism, working as editor at the Pakistan Times and the weekly Lail-o-Nihar. The 1965 war between India and Pakistan brought him to the Department of Information, but the bloodshed in the separation of Bangladesh from Pakistan distressed him, and he wrote several poems of distress.

With the overthrow of Bhutto, Faiz went into into exile, where worked as an editor for the magazine Lotus in Moscow, London, and Beirut, returning to Pakistan finally in 1982.

Faiz's major contribution, however, was his poetry, which is seen my many as the most notable modernist poetry in Urdu. Among his major works are Naqsh-e-Faryadi (1943), Dast-e-Saba (1952), Zindan-Nama (1956), Mere Dil Mere Musafir, and Sar-e-Wadi-e-Sina, all of these books collected in Nuskha Haa-e-Wafa.

Faiz also translated numerous works from English Russian, Balochi, and other languages. The poet also wrote several plays.

In 1963, Faiz received the Lenin Peace Prize from the Soviet Union. His work was also nominated several times for the Nobel Literature Prize. In 1990 he was posthumously awarded Pakistan's highest civilian award, Nishan-e-Imtiaz.

Faiz died on November 20, 1984 in Lahore, at the age of 73.

BOOKS OF POETRY (selected list)

Naqsh-e faryadi (1943); Dast-e saba (1952); Zindan nama (1956); Mizan (1964); Dest-i tah-yi sang (Lahore: Maktabah-yi Korvān, 1965); Harf harf (1965); Sar-e vadi-ye sina (1971); Mat¯a`-i lauh o qalam (Karachi: Maktab-i Dānīvāl, 1973); Rat di rat (1975); Intikh¯ab-i Pay¯am-i Mashriq : manz¯um Urd¯u tarjumah (1977); Sham-e shahri-yaran (1978); Mere dil, mere musafir (1980)

Poems, trans. by V.G. Kiernan (1962); Poems by Faiz, trans. by V. G. Kiernan (1971); Selected Poems of Faiz in English (Karachi: Pakistan Publishing House, 1984); The True Subject: Selected Poems of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, trans. Naomi Lazard (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1988); The Unicorn and the Dancing Girl, trans. by Daud Kamal (Ahmedabad: Allied Publishers, 1988); The Rebel's Silhouette, trans. Agha Shahid Ali (1991); Poems of Faiz Ahmad Faiz: A Poet of the Third World (New Delhi: M. D. Publications, 1995); Selected Poems of Faiz Ahmad Faiz (New Delhi/New York: Viking, 1995)

For a good selection of Faiz's poems, click below:

For a large selection of audios and other information, go here:

For a more substantial biography of Faiz, click here:

Tom Raworth's book Eternal Sections

For the complete text of Tom Raworth's Eternal Sections as originally published
by Sun & Moon Press, click below:

Antonio Gamoneda

Antonio Gamoneda [Spain]

Born on May 30, 1931 in Oviedo, Asturias, Spain, Antonio Gamoneda's father was a modernist poet who had published only one book Otra más alta vida (1919). By the time Antonio was four, his father had died and he and his mother moved to the working-class district of León. The Spanish Civil War created difficult times for them, and the horror and misery of those years is reflected in Gamoneda's dark poetry. The schools were closed, and the young boy taught himself to read by reading his own father's book.

Gamoneda was sent to a Augustinian Fathers religious school in 1941, dropping out two years later. At the early age of 14 he began work as a messenger in the Banco de Comercio, continuing his self-education, remaining at the back as an employee for twenty-four years.

It was at the bank that Gamoneda grew more and more in opposition to Franco's dictatorship, publishing his first book of poems, Sublevación inmóvil (Motionless revolt) in 1960. The book, breaking with the traditions of Spanish poetry of the time, was a runner-up for the Adonais prize.

In 1969 Gamoneda was appointed to head the cultural services of the Diputación Provincial de León, and the next hear became the head of the León State collection of poetry, where he attempted to promote progressive culture under Franco's harsh strictures. Consequently, Gamoneda was deprived of official status until readmitted by court order. During these years, absent from the poetry world, the writer worked for various cultural magazines.

With the death of Franco and the period of Spanish culture described as the transición, Gamoneda began writing again, expressing the crisises he had experienced. Descripción de la mentira (A Description of the Lie) was followed by several books before he produced some of his major works, including Lápidas (Tombstones) of 1987, Edad (Age) of 1987, Libro del Frio (Book of the Cold) (1992), and Arden las pédidas (Losses are Burning) (2003).

In 2006 Gamoneda was awarded the Reina Sofia Awaard and the Cervantes Prize, the highest award in Spanish literature.

The poet has written numerous collections of essays, and his poetry has been translated widely.


Sublevación inmóvil (Madrid: Rialp, 1960); Descripción de la mentira (León, Spain: Diputación Provincial, col. County, 1977; reprinted in Salamanca: Castile and Leon, col. Barrio de Maravillas, 1986; and Madrid: Abada Editores, 2003); León de la mirada (León, Spain: Espadaña, 1979); Tauromaquia y destino [with drawings by Juan Barjola] (León, Spain: Retablo, 1980); Blues castellano (Gijón Noega, 1982), reprinted Barcelona: Plaza y Janes, 1999, and Madrid: Bartleby, 2007); Lápidas (Madrid: Trieste, 1986); Edad (Madrid: Chair, 198); Libro del frio (Madrid: Siruela, 1992); Mortal 1936 (Merida: Asamblea de Extremadura, 1994); El vigilante de la nieve (Lanzorote, Spain: Fundación César Manrique, 1995); Libro de los venenos: corrupción y fábula del Libro Sexto de Pedacio Dioscóides y Andrés de Laguna, acerca de los venenos mortiferos y de las fieras que arrojan de si ponzoña (Madrid: Ediciones Siruela, 1995); Arden las pédidas (Barcelona: Tusquets, 2003); Cecilia (Lanzarote, Spain: Fundación César Manrique, 2004); Reescritura (Madrid: Abada, 2004); Esta luz 1947-2004 (Barcelona: Galaxia Gutenberg/Círculo de Lectores, 2004); Extravío en la luz (Madrid: Casariego, 2009)


Gravestones, trans. by Donald Wellman (New Orleans: University of New Orleans Press, 2009)

from Lápidas

THERE'S no wellbeing, there's no rest. The dark animal arrives in the midst of winds and there is a pile of men marked with the numbers of misfortune. There is no wellbeing, there is no rest. A black roaring grows and you weave the saddest fibers (under an incessant sun, in a bowl of lament, in the mauve root of augury) and sleepless mothers, those who inhabit cells of lightning, pass their gaze over a forest of stones.

Do birds so groan? All is blood soaked. Deaf at the source of the music, ought I to insist anymore? There is vigilance in the gardens placed between my spirit and the precision of the spies. There is watching in the churches.

Beware of calcination and incest; I say, beware of your very self, Spain.

(Song of the Spies)

—Translated from the Spanish by Donald Wellman

English language translation copyright ©2009. Reprinted from Gravestones (New Orleans: University of New Orleans Press, 2009)

For wide selection of Gamoneda's poetry in English, click here:

For an interview with Gamoneda, click below:

Mark Wallace

Mark Wallace [USA]

Mark Wallace was born in 1962 in Princeton, New Jersey and grew up in the Washington, D.C. area. Between the ages of 8 and 17, with his father and brother he drove across the United States to Southern California on camping trips every summer, once going by way of Mexico City and once by way of Lake Banff, and he has spent time in all 48 of US mainland states.

The numerous bad jobs he has worked since the age of 15 are distinguished not by working class physical labor but by the low paid tedium of the contemporary world’s bureaucratic nightmare.

He received his Ph.D. from the State University at Buffalo with his dissertation The Gothic Universe in the Fiction of Paul Bowles and William Burroughs. He worked at Buffalo as a student assistant to Charles Bernstein on "The Wednesdays At Four Plus" reading series.

Since 1995 he has been running literary events, first in Washington, D.C., where he lived until 2005, and most recently at California State University San Marcos, where he currently teaches.

He is the author of three books of fiction, four books of poetry, a mixed genre work, and numerous chapbooks. Temporary Worker Rides A Subway won the 2002 Gertrude Stein Poetry Award and was published by Green Integer. His most recent fictions include Walking Dreams: Selected Early Tales and The Quarry and The Lot (both BlazeVox Books).

Wallace has been a contributing co-editor to several literary magazines, Poetic Briefs, Situation, and Submodern Fiction. His critical articles and reviews have appeared in numerous publications, and he has co-edited two essay collections, Telling It Slant: Avant Garde Poetics of the 1990s, and A Poetics of Criticism.

Much of his work involves questioning and undermining conventional distinctions between literary genres. The dynamics of terror and fear have remained central to most of it, as has the sense that much of what passes for literary and cultural knowledge is really just unexamined prejudice.


Three Rengas [with Joseph Battaglia and Keith Eckert] (Binghamton, New York: Triangle Press, 1988); Renga By Mail [with Joseph Battaglia and Keith Eckert] (Binghamton, New York: Triangle Press, 1989); The Cold and the Simple, A Blues (Binghamton, New York: Triangle Press, 1989); Shapes [with Joseph Battaglia and Keith Eckert] (Binghamton, New York: Triangle Press, 1990); By These Tokens (Binghamton, New York: Triangle Press, 1990); Complications from Standing in a Circle (Buffalo, New York: Leave Books, 1993); The Sponge Has Holes (Buffalo: New York: Tailspin Press, 1994); Every Day Is Most of My Time (Norman, Oklahoma: Texture Press, 1994); The Lawless Man (Los Angeles: Upper Limit Music, 1996); Building from White Buildings (Elmwood, Connecticut: Abacus, 1996); Sonnets of a Penny-A-Liner (Washington, DC: Buck Downs Books, 1996); In Case of Damage to Life, Limb, or This Elevator (Morris, Minnesota: Standing Stones Press, 1996); The Haunted Baronet (Washington, DC: Primitive Publications, 1996); Nothing Happened, and Besides I Wasn't There (Washington, DC: Edge Books, 1997); My Christmas Poem (New York: Poetry New York, 1998); Refiguring Foil (Elmwood, Connecticut: Abacus, 1998); Haze: Essays, Poems, Prose (Washington, DC: Edge Books, 2004); Temporary Worker Rides a Subway (Los Angeles: Green Integer, 2004); Felonies of Illusion (Washington, DC: Edge Books, 2008);

from Temporary Worker Rides a Subway

The basic act is for any
trial and sentence, rooftop, bus
we wouldn't have never been
no stop, take top tax dollar shirt show
a passing glance arrested hardware
nor if or couldn't been, bend bare
bleached banner, a certain fancy never mind,
social critic brand name bonanza,
distribute if one as if one, court of out,
calibrate emotional bloodletting, sincere fish
if ever as to ever to, and too,
the man you took you took to be me
simply put the sale was fantastic
third show from the left, no sun from a stone,
bureaucratic barn burning, don't call,
we'll call care or carnage care, deepening
against as putt if any pull, paradise pander
love calculate, intrepid shortchange,
prospect of making you sick
won't have grenades in my garden
genre, simply say say simply, simply,
here's no money sucker, perhaps upon agenda
mean no say when saying no, reference
mistake swordplay, institutional apartment
appears as appears, bolster surrogate slaphouse,
if he didn't stinky cheese, recall
speaking of speech, future water dam in damn
videotape instruction, terrible termination,
I loves what not in such or when,
prove it prove it prove it prove it

Copyright ©2004 by Mark Wallace. Reprinted from Temporary Worker Rides a Subway (Los Angeles: Green Integer, 2004)

For the poem, "Prediction" by Mark Wallace, click below:

For another small selection of Wallace poems, click here:

For PennSound's selection of readings and videos of Mark Wallace, hit below:

For a conversation with Mark Wallace, click here:

August 8, 2011

book by Giuseppe Steiner Drawn States of Mind

To view Drawn States of Mind, a book by the Italian Futurist writer Giuseppe Steiner, click below:

Itō Hiromi

Itō Hiromi [Japan/lives also in USA]

Born in Tokyo in 1955, Itō Hiromi is one of the most noted contemporary Japanese women writers, having received numerous literary prizes.

Itō first became known in the 1980s for collections of poetry centering on subjects such as sexuality, pregnancy, the erotic desires of females, and other issues, presenting her material in narrative voices that provide the texts with a dramatic urgency. Among her works from this period were Princess (1979), Oume (Green Plumes, 1982), and Territory-Ron 1 & 2 (On Territory, 1985 and 1987).

Itō also wrote numerous essays on women's issues, many of which, bearing names such Good Breasts, Bad Breasts; Tummy, Cheek, Bottom and What Did You Eat?, became famous in Japan.

The poet had been fascinated with Native American poetry since her earliest writings, and in 1990 met the American poet Jerome Rothenberg, visiting Japan, who had been a major force in re-examining Native American poetry. At Rothernberg's invitation, Itō began making regular trips to the US, finally separating from her Japanese husband, the literary scholar Masahiko Nishi, and marrying the British artist Harold Cohen. The couple now lives in Encinitas, California, with Itō traveling back and forth between their home and Japan.

More recently, Itō wrote several novellas, being nominated for an winning several prizes in Japan, including the Noma Literary Prize for New Writers, the Takami Jun Prize, and the Hagiwara Sakutarō Prize.

In Japan she is the translator of Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat.


Kusaki no Sora (Tokyo: Atelier Publishing Planning, 1978); Princess (Tokyo: Shiyosha, 1979); Collected Poems of Hiromi Itō: New Generation Poets Series (Tokyo: Shichosha, 1980); Oume (Tokyo: 1982); Territory-Ron 2 (Tokyo: Shichosa, 1985); Territory-Ron [co-written with Nobuyoshi Araki] (Tokyo: Shichosha, 1987); Collected Poems of Hiromi Itō: Contemporary Poetry Series (Tokyo: Shichosha, 1988); Noro to Saniwa [co-written with Chizuko Ueno] (Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1991); Watashi wa Anjuhimeko de aru (Tokyo: Shichosha, 1993); Te, Ashi, Niku, Karada [co-written with Miyako Ishiuchi] (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobo, 1995); Kawara Arekusa (Tokyo: Shichosa, 2005)


Killing Kanoko: Selected Poems of Hiromi Itō, trans. by Jeffrey Angles (Notre Dame, Indiana: Action Books, 2009)

For a selection of poems translated into English by Itō, click here:

For two new poems by Itō Hiromi, click below:

For a review of Killing Kanoko and a video of the poet reading in English, click here:

Gellu Naum

Naum and Victor Brauner, c. 1935

Gellu Naum [Romania]

Gellu Naum was born in Bucharest, August 1, 1915, the son of romantic poet Andrei Naum (who died in combat at the Battle of Marasesti, WWI) and his wife Maria. In 1933, he began studying philosophy in Bucharest and, in 1938, left to continue his studies at the University of Paris. While completing his doctoral degree (with a dissertation on the French philosopher Peter Abelard, known for his romantic poetry and letters), Naum became the central figure in an expatriate group of Romanians.

In 1935 Naum made an important new friend and mentor. The poet recalled: “One day, as I was walking on Sarindari Street, I came across an exhibition by Victor Brauner. At that time I did not know anything about Brauner, who kept on painting while living in extreme poverty. And I entered that exhibition hall as if destiny attracted me. I found a very nice young man, who asked me if I liked what I saw. And I told him I liked it a lot; that I wanted to write just like he painted. When he asked me what I was writing, I told him I was writing poems. We never parted since.”

A year later, Naum published his first book. Incendiary Traveler, accompanied by Brauner illustrations, who then introduced him to André Breton and the Paris surrealist group. Naum later befriended artists Jacques Herold and Paul Paun, who both went on to illustrate some 20 books by him.

In 1941, while on the Orient Express traveling from Paris to Bucharest, Naum—together with Gherasim Luca, Dolfi Trost and others—organized a Romanian Surrealist group. Over the next five years in Bucharest that group evolved into a veritable movement with manifestoes, magazines, books, exhibitions and other publications. At war’s end Luca, Trost, Virgil Teodorescu, Sasha Pana, Jules Perahim, Jacques Herold, Lucian Boz, Constantin Nisipeanu, Sesto Pals and others, all active in Romanian surrealism, were swiftly banned by the Communist authorities.

By 1947, Naum’s book, The White of the Bone, was rejected by censors, and for the next 20 years Naum was permitted only to write in the approved style, “socialist realism,” praising the leaders of communism (e.g., "Poem about our youth," 1960). He was also permitted to write children’s books (e.g., The Book of Apolodor) and sometimes published Romanian translations of works in French by Gerard de Nerval, Denis Diderot, Samuel Beckett, Rene Char, Jacques Prevert, Franz Kafka, Victor Hugo and even Jules Verne.

After 1967, Naum resumed publishing Surrealist poetry books, leaving us a unique look at the subconscious in more than 40 books, among them, My Tired Father (translated into English by Green Integer in 1999), The Other Side, and The Animal-Tree. His surreal novel Zenobia was published in 1985 and, in 1995, was translated into English by James Brook and Sasha Vlad for Northwestern University Press. His wife, the artist Lygia (Alexandrescu) Naum, was the inspiration and main character of the story.

In 1979 Naum published a collection of works for the theater, Insula. Ceasornicăria Taus. Poate Elenora. To read Ceasornicăria Taus (The Taus Watch Repair Shop), click here:

Although Naum was this writer’s “reluctant” mentor, he visited me in New York, summer 1985 (together with his wife), where we did a bilingual poetry reading with a circle of poets and artists that included the late Ira Cohen, Timothy Baum, and Liuba Ristic on sitar. It was a unique and historic Surrealist event.

Naum received numerous international and national awards for his work, including the 1999 European Prize for Poetry and a nomination for the Nobel Prize. Much of his work, however, remains in need of translating and editing into English.

—Valery Oisteanu


Drumeţul incendiar [with art by Victor Brauner] (Bucharest: 1936); Vasco de Gama (Bucharest: Rotativa, 1940); Culoarul somnului [with art by Victor Vrauner] (Bucharest, 1944); Spectrul longevităţuul 122 de cadavre [in collaboration with Virgil Teodorescu] (Bucharest: Colecţia suprarealistă, 1945); Athanor (Burcharest: Editura pentru Literatură, 1968); Copacul-animal (Bucharest: Editura Eminescu, 1971); Tatăl meu obosit (Bucharest: Editura Cartea Românească, 1972); Descrierea turnului (Bucharest: Editura Albatros, 1975); Partea cealaltă (Burcharest: Editura Cartea Românească , 1980); Malul albastru (Bucharest: Editura Cartea Românească, 1990); Faţa şi suprafaţa urmat de Malul albastru (1989-1993 (Buchaarest: Editura Litera, 1994; Focul negru (Burcharest: Editura Eminescu, 1995); Sora fântână (Editura Eminescu, 1995);
Ascet la baraca de tir (Bucharest: Editura Fundaţiei Culturale Române, 2000)


My Tired Father / Pohem, trans. by James Brook, with an interview between Brook and Naum (Los Angeles: Green Integer, 1999); Apollodor, Book One, trans. by M. A. Christi (on line, 2009)

For the Gellu Naum website, with Apollodor, biography, and other materials, click below:

For a short film on Gellu Naum, "Voluntary Blindness," click here:

For Naum reading a poem in Romanian, click here:

From My Tired Father

My tired father used the thought-gaze

He hit something solid with a pole and turned to me with a triumphant air

In fact everything was limited to a sort of exorcism of fear Only the crossing to the other side of the gesture was important

I had heard of the terrible storms there and I had come to know them

I made identical gestures the dial had no numbers and the sun shone somewhere very low

Weeping I asked for something to drunk My wife mentioned Abend Oh if only we weren't at this moment above the masts in his barrel she sighed There he is and there he should stay I said

And if he sails in a barrel he'll be in a fine spot

Around the same time someone decided to dedicate his life to science (potassium sodium aluminum)

On the other side two groups of three executed identical but inverse movements The second part corresponded to the first The third part excluded any countertendency and became a product

A ball rolled on the floor thus transporting itself into a completely separate category

Everything upset cried out

Between the two (parallel) walls only one man still practiced the old demonstrative functions

Space was a kind of sequential panel on which I could apply anything at all

On waking I had a pulse just as blind and obscure

White the intelligent students acquired sound knowledge within the framework of a demanding program

The language of sets was integrated in small doses

The pendulum's oscillation on which I had meditated a long time showed me furthermore that there were many distinct bodies that in blending neither disturb nor exclude one another They were in some very distance places

A young woman appointed professor in a gigantic school resolved to lover her students

A photographer left his wife and felt compelled to accept the invitation of a priest retired to the south The priest succeeded in reconciling the separate couple

A man was stretched out next to his wife The ceiling reproduced the include of the roof

A yellow spot seemed to emerge from its own absence

—Translated from the Romanian by James Brook

To buy a copy of the book, My Tired Father, click below:

English language translation copyright ©1999 by James Brook. Reprinted from My Tired Father/Pohem (Los Angeles: Green Integer, 1999).

Gale Nelson

Gale Nelson [USA]

Born in Los Angeles in 1961, Gale Nelson moved to Rhode Island in 1986, where he has taught at Trinity Repertory Conservatory and Brown University. At Brown he is the Assistant Director of the Program to Literary Arts.

Nelson is married to fiction writer Lori Baker.

Editor of paradigm press, Nelson began publishing his poetry in the early 1990s with stare decisis (1991), Little Brass Pump (1992), and The Mystic Cypher (1993). To date he has published eight books and chapbooks, the most recent being This Is What Happens When Talk Ends (2011), a work of 8 sets of 8 poems that each follow the vowel pattern of a particular passage Shakespeare. These works to not contain the playwrights "content," but try to build toward their own coherence. The sets are not presented in linear succession, but arranged in a chess patter, the earliest surviving knight's circuit, attributed to al-Adli ar-Rumi of Baghdad, presumed to date from 840 AD.

Nelson's work has also appeared in the anthologies 49 + 1: Nouveaux poètes américains and The Joy of Phonetics and Accents.

David Harrison Horton has described Nelson's poems as "....a landscape of structures and variables, carefully recording instances in which language enjambs to the point of crisis and consigns itself to an altered path. Nelson flashes in and out of poetic modes that he is able to rein in from the brink of cacophony and craft into an engaging series of poems."


stare decisis (Providence, Rhode Island, 1991); Little Brass Pump (Buffalo, New York: Leave Books, 1992); The Mystic Cypher (Norman, Oklahoma: Texture Chapbooks, 1993); Spectral Angel (Sausalito, California: Duration Press, 1999); In It (Providence, Rhode Island: paradigm, 2000); Intersecting Mr. Sams (Providence, Rhode Island: paradigm, 2000); ceteris paribus (Providence, Rhode Island, 2000); greek myth in eggcup relief (Providence, Rhode Island, 2001); This Is What Happens When Talk Ends (Providence, Rhode Island: Burning Deck, 2011)

For a selection of three poems, click here:

For a suite of poems by Gale Nelson, click below:

Winner of the PIP Gertrude Stein Awards for Innovative Poetry in English

Heart’s Evolving Signal Swelling

Foisted picket honors summit’s slope
as cleft cot binds our plumes in dung’s gloom.
All shapes could draw clouds, stub books, cut off fumes
nicely, yet spell no blood spent on least-juiced
orange. Lotus blooms, but digits coin fortunes. Any
pout quiets laugh’s tug on tongue,
courts pleasant quarters stolen even in
frost’s dusty spell. Sausage folded in duty’s heft causes
infiltrated salad doom in spite of
candor’s fine tact. Bottom’s up this vast beer bent,
sopping enough frothed cask but ale’s last mine.
Ease this liar’s cascade,
pose affinity’s louche vanity on last sudden
sun-lit branch. Cannot panel-long joists bend in?
No. Patter’s tooth-bust jag casts mood’s dull gloom. Limb’s mask
is daft as tumbles fall, and anyone yet tamed
postures poem’s stanza of dancing
in wrack’s cant. Tundra binds tonsils and igloo strips into
treacled home. Saucers mixed in, saucers
yet no cups in this blessed top shelf. Friends
spill nothing, break in on dare. That’s parsed but
an agony. Spare my trauma my siphon’s blade
and float past teaching’s flame.
Infighting, berating ill friend’s long relapse,
can’t we stop being dolts? Can all madness blind me,
upset or agonize? Must
that be all? Moisten not the lost lip,
carry ever on the fiendish aloof bent, alone.
Obscene candid yelps plead my insect’s cold heart
in vast desert’s blinded gloom, yet valiant bids
shall cancel either because of tether’s crawl.
Tonnage ingraining supply, ingots fadge only luck’s
tumble. Who enlists predicts eased plan
of entombed career talents in
inexact falls. Telescoped star shards twine those
cavities parsed as fluted straws, but
stains can suddenly place sampled lances on cup’s
dim clamor. Sugar beets grow between cusps,
and out above this fancy land,
closer stars bend in neutered shame.
Bid me no succor, honor just these saddened chromes

Copyright ©2009 by Gale Nelson. Reprinted from EOAGH, no. 5 (2009).

August 6, 2011

review-essay on Susan Howe, "Keeping History a Secret" by Douglas Messerli

by Douglas Messerli

Susan Howe Secret History of the Dividing Line (New York: Telephone Books, 1978)

In 1976 The Western Borders (Tuumba Press) introduced its readers to the curious wordscapes of Susan Howe, a writer who, in her unusual blend of poetic and narrative elements—a combination that Jonathan Culler has perceptively described as a rapidly emerging “non-genre”—both confused and intrigued. Like that of the “language poets” (Bruce Andrews, Charles Bernstein, Ray DiPalma, Ron Silliman, Barrett Watten, and others), Howe’s work often focused on language wrenched from the context of the sentence, phrase, even the word itself, and arranged in somewhat unusual typographical configurations on the page. Yet, in antipathy to “language” concerns, the language of The Western Borders, fragmented though it was, moved always in the direction of narrative, towards legend, dream and myth. Now, in The Secret History of the Dividing Line, Howe not only demonstrates that she has not abandoned this seeming contradiction, but that it is at the very heart of her eccentric vision.

I describe Howe’s work as “eccentric,” not because it is particularly peculiar or odd, but rather because, in the best sense of that word, her concerns are “out of the ordinary,” in fact, are extraordinary. Howe is one of a special breed of authors (I can think of only one other contemporary writer, Bernadette Mayer) who thoroughly explore the terrain between utterance and gesture, between word and act, that narrow gap, as she puts it in Secret History, between “salvages or savages.”

Indeed, Howe’s work suggests the world as actualized is a savage one; man in motion is a terrible pagan, battling, plundering, raping his way through history like the Vikings. Accordingly, any chronicle of man inevitably is filled with terror. Man is a warrior, thus his history is always a tale of war; as Howe writes, “I know the war-whoop in each dusty narrative.” Story-telling, then, becomes an act of recreating its horror.

I search the house
hunting out people for trial
. . . . . . . . . . . .

Needles fell in strands
Daggers like puppets scissored the sky

Millions faced north
the Emperor’s last Conscription
the year One.

Some craned away
some used their elbows for meat
families knocking their heads together
and thanking the Gods outloud.

Even in sleep mankind moves through its dreams, in Howe’s imagination, as “troops of marble messengers,” “half grotesque, half magical,” enchanted speaking beasts, “acting out roles.”

Simultaneously, however, Howe implies that he very language that evokes this horrific vision, the very words that chronicle man’s mad actions, are also his salvation, a potential salvage. With man’s enchantment, with his amazing ability to record his own actions in speech, comes the gift of creation, which, in turn, momentarily stops that flow of meaningless acts through time and space. “Our law,” Howe observes, resides in “vocables/of shape or sound.” Hence, language must be recognized as a thing apart from nature, as separate from man’s headlong rush into chaos. For Howe, just as for the “language” poets, “words need always be torn away from the “icy tremors of abstraction,” for their old associations, and brought to life instead as objects, as things existing in reality in their own right. If language is to have any power, a word must be recognized as a thing, as “an object set up to indicate a boundary or position,” a “MARK/border/bulwark....” Only then can the word be used to heal the devastation like an “anecdote.”

Accordingly, the narratives of Secret History are purposely attenuated; the history is kept a arm’s length, even thwarted. History must be kept a secret; it cannot be permitted to dominate, for that would be to abandon the work to chaos, to the mere recounting of man’s terrifying inhuman acts. At times in Secret History it is almost as if the teller of the tale has been metamorphosed into a stammering, absent-minded historian, as the tale, once present, fortuitously is lost to the sound of human speech:

where ere
he He A

ere I were

father father

O it is the old old

. . . . . .

As Howe has put it in a more recent poem (in Hawk-Wind, no. 2 [1979], 19), “the real plot was invisible.”

On the other hand, Howe recognizes that she must be careful always to walk a fine line between story and speech. If she is to continue to explore that dividing line between chaos and order, she cannot afford to give up the tale. To do so would be to see man as a debilitated schizophrenic, as a creature doomed to act in one way and to think (for to speak is to think) in another. Moreover, Howe recognizes language as an object can be a dangerous thing to a creature in such continual motion; the mark, order, bulwark can suddenly become a boundary, impaling the animal “in a netting of fences.” The two, she indicates, must always be superimposed: language existing in its own space, necessarily must coexist. “The Fortunate Islands,” Howe perceived in The Western Borders, “are in The Sea of Darkness.”

Such a controlled tension invariably results in a certain degree of coyness; and behind that there even may be a kind of fear of permitting the artist his full range as both actor and creator. Yet, one is reminded in this of the painfully brilliant fictions of Jane Bowles, a writer who, like Howe, attempted to describe those subtle relationships between act and speech; the tensions such as those inherent in works by writers such as Howe and Bowles stem less from fear than from these authors’ commitment to their art, their absolute belief in language and in its ability both to repeat and make new reality. One can ask no more of any writer. That Susan Howe has so incredibly combined the tasks of both remembering and creating is an added reward for her readers.

College Park, Maryland, 1980
Reprinted from American Book Review, II, no. 6 (September-October 1980).

Susan Howe

from thorow

Susan Howe [USA]

Born in Boston in 1937, Susan Howe grew up in Cambridge. Her mother, Mary Manning, of Irish birth, had written plays for and acted with the famed Abbey Theatre. Manning had close relationships with many of the noted Irish authors, including Samuel Beckett, and later would write the screenplay for Mary Ellen Bute's brilliant film, Passages from James Joyce's Finnegans Wake.

Her father, Mark DeWolfe Howe, was a professor at Harvard Law School, and her sister is the noted American poet and fiction writer Fanny Howe.

Susan graduated from the Boston Museum of Fine Arts in 1961, marrying the painter Harvey Quaytman, a marriage which produced a daughter, the artist R. H. Quaytman. The relationship ended in divorce.

Howe married sculptor David von Schlegell, living with him until his death in 1992. Together they had a son, Mark von Schlegell, now a writer.

Her third husband, Peter Hewitt Hare, a philosopher and Professor at the University of Buffalo, died in 2008.

Although Howe began as a artist, in the mid 1970s she turned to poetry, producing a series of small books, Hinge Picture, Secret History of the Dividing Line, The Western Borders, and Cabbage Gardens among them. These works, as well as her later mature writing, were steeped in history and used a somewhat fragmented language, often taken from older literary texts, to create new semiotic possibilities. Although her work perhaps has more resonance with the Objectivists and the continuation of Black Mountain writers, Howe's work was also admired by the "Language" poets, and poems of hers appeared early on in Douglas Messerli's anthology "Language" Poetries (1987) and Ron Silliman's In the American Tree anthology (1986). Her work has also been included in other contexts in Messerli's From the Other Side of the Century: A New American Poetry 1960-1990 (1994) and Paul Hoover's Postmodern American Poetry (1994).

In 1990 Sun & Moon Press combined three earlier texts, Pythagorean Silence (1982), Defenestration of Prague (1983), and The Liberties (1983) together in The Europe of Trusts, one of the most beloved of Howe's publications.

Since the 1990s Howe has continued to produce exquisitely deconstructed historical and mythical texts in order to reveal hitherto unknown perspectives of the present and past.

Another one of Howe's most popular works has been her personal biographical study of the poet Emily Dickinson, My Emily Dickinson, first published in 1985, and reissued in 2007. She also wrote a book of critical studies, The Birth-mark: Unsettling the Wilderness in American Literary History (1993). Howe was a professor of literature at New York State University, Buffalo.

Howe's work has continued to be highly influential on American poetry and has drawn a wide range of readers. In 2011 she won the prestigious Bollingen Prize in American Poetry, and in 2008 she was the Anna-Maria Kellen Fellow at the American Academy in Berlin.


The End of Art (1974); Hinge Picture (New York: Telephone Books, 1974); Chanting at the Crystal Sea (Boston: Fire Exit, 1975); Secret History of the Dividing Line (New York: Telephone Books, 1978); The Western Borders (Willits, California: Tuumba, 1979); Cabbage Gardens (Chicago: Fathom Press, 1979); The Liberties (Guilford, Connecticut: Loon Books, 1980); Pythagorean Silence (New York: Montemora Foundation, 1982); Defenestration of Prague (New York: Kulchur, 1983); Incloser (Santa Fe: Weaselsleeves, 1985); Heliopathy (1986); Articulation of Sound Forms in Time (Awede Press, 1987); A Bibliography of the King's Book, or Eikon Basilike (Providence, Rhode Island: Paradigm Press, 1989); The Europe of Trusts (Los Angeles: Sun & Moon Press, 1990/ reprinted New York: New Directions, 2002); Singularities (Hanover, New Hampshire: Wesleyan University Press, 1990); Silence Wager Stories (Providence, Rhode Island: Paradigm Press, 1992); The Nonconformist's Memorial (New York: New Directions, 1993); Frame Structures (New York: New Directions, 1996); Pierce-Arrow (New York: New Directions, 1999); Bed Hangings I [with Susan Bee] (New York: Granary Books, 2001); Bed Hangings II [with Susan Bee] (New York: Granary Books,2002); Kidnapped (Clonemel, Ireland: Coracle, 2002); The Midnight (New York: New Directions, 2003); Souls of the Labadie Tract (New York: New Directions, 2007); THAT THIS [with photograms by James Welling] (New York: New Directions, 2010)

For poetry from Cabbage Gardens, click here:

For a selection from The Blibliography of the King's Book, or Eikon Basilike, click below:

For "Incloser," click here:

For a large selection of audio readings by Susan Howe, click here to reach PennSound:

essay on Susan Howe, "Poetry as History Revised: Susan Howe's 'Scaattering As Behavior Toward Risk,'" by Ming-Qian Ma

For as essay on Susan Howe,"Poetry as History Revised:
Susan Howe's 'Scattering As Behavior Toward Risk'" by Ming-Qian Ma, click here:

essay on Susan Howe, "WHOWE: On Susan Howe" by Rachel Blau DuPlessis

For an essay on Susan Howe, "WHOWE: On Susan Howe" by Rachel Blau DuPlessis,
click here:

essay on Susan Howe and Ron Silliman, "Language Poetry and the Lyric Subject" by Marjorie Perloff

For an essay on Susan Howe and Ron Silliman, "Language Poetry and the Lyric Subject: Ron Silliman's Albany, Susan Howe's Buffalo" by Marjorie Perloff, click below:

Turgut Uyar

Turgut Uyar [Turkey]

Born in Ankara on August 4, 1927, Turgut Uyar began his adult life at the Konya Military School, were for several years he served as staff officer. During this period he began to write poetry, publishing Arz-i Hall in 1949. His first book already shows the influence of several poets of the Garip writers, including Orhan Veli. The poet is often described as belonging to the "second new" stage of the Garip group.

When he resigned his commission in 1958, Uyar went to work at the Cellulose and Paper Consortium in Ankara. During these years Uyar developed a friendship with Turkish poet Cemal Süreya.

Uyar's book, Tütünler Islak (Wet Tobacco), won the Seven Hills Prize for Poetry, a prestigious award in Turkey.

Uyar died in Istanbul in 1985.


Arz-ı Hal (1949); Türkiyem (1952-1963); Dünyanın En Güzel Arabistanı (1959); Tütünler Islak (1962); Her Pazartesi (1968); Divan (1970); Toplandılar (1974); Toplu Şiir (1981); Kayayı Delen İncir (1982); Dün Yok mu (1984); Büyük Saat (1984)


selections in Feyyaz Kayacan Fergar, ed. Modern Turkish Poetry (Ware, England: The Rockinham Press, 1992); selection in Murat Nemet-Nejat, ed. and trans., EDA: An Anthology of Contemporary Turkish Poetry (Jersey City, New Jersey: Talisman House, 2004); selections in George Messo, ed. and trans., İkinci Yeni: The Turkish Avant-Garde (unpublished)

For a selection of English language translations by Uyar, click below:

One Day, Early in the Morning…

Say I knock at the door one day, early morning,
Wake you from your sleep:
And yet, fog still lingers on the Golden Horn.
There’s the echo of ferry horns.
Twilight everywhere,
The bridge is still up.
Say I knock at the door early one morning…

My journey has been long
The train passed over iron bridges at night.
Villages in the middle of nowhere with five or ten houses.
Telegraph poles all along the route
Running to keep up with us.

Suppose I sang songs from the window,
Woke up, dozed off, woke up again.
My ticket, third class
Poorer than poor.
Say I couldn’t buy that meerschaum necklace
So I bought you a basket of apples instead…

Haydarpaşa open your arms we might have said
The ferry glittering at the pier
Air a little cold
Sea smelling of fish and tar
Say I crossed from the bridge to the other shore in a rowing boat,
Climbed our hill in a single breath…

Say I knock at the door early one morning,
- Who’s that? You’d ask in a sleepy voice.
Your hair ruffled, and heavy-eyed.
Who knows how beautiful you’d look my love,
If I knock at the door one morning,
Wake you from your sleep
And yet, fog still lingers on the Golden Horn.
There’s the squeal of factory whistles.

—Translated from the Turkish by George Messo

Evening Dream

Far off ships are passing now
My heart is scattered all over the decks.
Lightened nights, lute sounds, cheese and bread
I’ve neither ticket nor money nor friend
My heart tremors as I look around
- Turgut wake up, wake up poor one
This is Terme.

Lorries are passing over Terme bridge,
Workmen talk three here, five there
A night begins, half black, half red
I light my cigarette and return home…
- Sail on, ships, sail on
Give greetings to wherever you go
Some day far from all worries
I’ll come too…

—Translated from the Turkish by George Messo

Night with Deer

But there was nothing frightening there
Only everything was made of nylon
And when we died we died in thousands against the sun
But before we found the night with deer
We were all afraid like children.

You should all know the night with deer
In far off forests wild and green
Sun sinking under its weight at the asphalt’s end
Redeeming us all from time

First we dug into the earth
Then vanished
From gladiators and wild toothed beasts
From giant cities
Staying hidden and fighting
We saved the night with deer

Yes we were alone but we had hope
If we saw three houses we took it for a city
If we saw three pigeons Mexico came to mind
Evenings we loved to walk the streets
And we loved the way women waited for their husbands
Later we’d drink wine red or white
Whether we knew it or not it was because of the night with deer

—Translated from the Turkish by George Messo

English language translation copyright ©2011 by George Messo, reprinted from the unpublished manuscript, İkinci Yeni: The Turkish Avant-Garde

August 5, 2011

F. T. Marinetti and others "Futurist Synthesis of the War"

For a manifesto-poem by F. T. Marinetti and other Futurists, "Futurist
Synthesis of the War," click here:

Pierre Martory

Pierre Martory [France]

Pierre Martory was born in Bayonne, France, on December 1, 1920, of a Basque mother and French father who was an army officer. He spent much of his childhood in Morocco, where his father was posted, and returned there often as an adult. After passing his baccalauréat he enrolled at the École des Sciences Politiques in Paris in the fall of 1939, but was forced to flee the Nazi army in June 1940. He joined the French army and was shipped to North Africa, where he ended up fighting alongside the Allied forces in what had become the Free French Army. After the war he held a number of jobs, first at the unlikely-sounding Biarritz American University, then as an airlines clerk in Bordeaux and Paris, as assistant to the anthropologist Marcel Griaule, reporter at Le Monde Diplomatique, and finally as arts editor of Paris Match, where he remained for twenty-five years. He died in October 1998.

His novel Phébus ou le beau Mariage was published by Denoël in 1953 to respectable reviews (a second competed novel, Un jeune Homme attachant, remains unpublished). Meanwhile he wrote poetry almost constantly throughout his life, publishing only a few poems in little magazines when he was briefly part of a group of poets (including Hubert Juin and Pierre-Jean Oswald) who met regularly at a café on the Ile St. Louis to read their work aloud to each other.

As his executor, I have been classifying his papers, beginning with a school copybook containing more than one thousand lines of poetry written in Tunisia during the war. Of the poems translated here [that selection does not appear], "Music" is dated 1948. The others are from a typed manuscript titled "La Lyre d'Aloès," which appears to date from the early 1950s. It is dedicated to a friend, Simone Bitterly, with the line "en attendant une édition sérieuse"—until there is a real edition. A handwritten note from the publisher Seghers is inserted in the manuscript. Dated simply "Tuesday," it announced the acceptance of six of the poems for publication, but adds, "Unfortunately we can't give you a date—perhaps in a month, two months, or six months." This seems to have been typical of his dealings with French publishers.

He has had better luck in America. Poems of his have appeared in Poetry, New Yorker, American Poetry Review, and a number of smaller publications. A collection, Every Question but One, was published in 1989 by Ground Water Press. Sheep Meadow Press has published two collections: The Landscape Is Behind the Door, translated by me, and Veilleur de Jours, in French.

—John Ashbery

Copyright ©2002 by John Ashbery
photograph copyright by John Ashbery


Veilleur de Jours (Riverdale-on-Hudson, New York: Sheep Meadow Press, 1997)


Every Question but One (Hudson, New York: Groudwater Press, 1990); The Landscape Is Behind the Door, trans. by John Ashbery (Riverdale-on-Hudson, New York: Sheep Meadow Press, 1994); The Landscapist: Selected Poems, trans. by John Ashbery (Riverdale-on-Hudson, New York: Sheep Meadow Press, 2008)

For a selection of five poems in English, press here:

For another selection of poems in English, click below:

For an audio interview between Ashbery and Michael Silverblatt on Ashbery's early days in
Paris and his friendship with Martory, click here:

Jüri Talvet

Jüri Talvet [Estonia]

Jüri Talvet was born in Pänu, Estonia on December 17, 1945. He received his MA degree from the University of Tartu in English philology in 1972, and went on to take his PhD at Leningrad (St. Petersburg) University in 1981 on Western European Literature.

In 1974 he taught literary history at the University of Tartu, and after receiving his PhD he went on to become the Professor and Chair of Comparative Literature at Tartu. He has also chaired the Estonian Association of Comparative Literature, and is the editor of Interlitteraria, a annual journal of comparative literature.

Talvet has also translated Spanish language works, including by authors Francisco de Quevedo and Gabriel García Márquez, into Estonian.

He has travelled and lectured widely, speaking of Estonian literature in Cuba, Mexico, Nicaragua, Spain, Finland, Norway, Belgium, Poland, Sweden, the US, Canada and the Netherlands.

His first book of poetry, Äratused (Awakenings) appeared in 1981, followed by six books over the years since, including Ambur ja karje, Hinge kulg ja kliima üllatused, Unest, lumest, and, most recently, Silmad peksavad une seinu (Eyes Beat the Walls of Sleep). In 1997 he was awarded highest poetry honor, the Juhan Liiv Prize.

With the American H. L Hix, Talvet has edited and translated a volume of Liiv's poetry in English The Mind Would Bear No Better. A book-length essay by Talvet, A Call for Cultural Symbiosis (Guernica), and two books of poetry have been translated into English. Tavet has had his work translated into several other languages as well.

He and his wife and three children live in Tartu.


Äratused (Tallinn: Eesti Raamat, 1981) Ambur ja karje (Tallinn: Eesti Raamat, 1986) Hinge kulg ja kliima üllatused(Tallinn: Eesti Raamat, 1990) Eesti eleegia ja teisi luuletusi (Tallinn: Kupar, 1997) Kas sul viinamarju ka on? (Tartu: Ilmamaa, 2001) Unest, lumest (Tartu: Ilmamaa, 2005) Silmad peksavad une seinu (Tartu, Ilmamaa, 2008)


Estonian Elegy. Selected Poems, trans. by H. L. Hix (Toronto: Guernica, 2008); Of Snow, Of Soul, trans. by H. L. Hix (Toronto: Guernica, 2010)

For an English-language translation of "Underwater Vilnius," click here:

For a larger selection of Talvet's poetry in English (his home page), click below:

For a video of Talvet reading his poetry in Spanish at the International Poetry Festival in
Medellín, click here:

F. T. Marinetti "Technical Manifesto of Futurist Literature"

To read F. T. Marinetti's "Technical Manifesto of Futurist Literature" click below:

book by Djuna Barnes The Book of Repulsive Women

Below is another Green Integer/PIP on-line poetry publication,
The Book of Repulsive Women by Djuna Barnes.

Nuno Júdice

Nuno Júdice [Portugal]

Born in Mexilhoeira Grande, Portugal on April 29, 1949, Nuno Júdice graduated in Romance Philology at the University of Lisbon. He received his PhD at the Universidade Nova (New University) in 1989, where is now professor.

From 1997 to 2004 Júdice served as cultural attaché for Portugal in Paris. He has also served as advisor to the Instituto Camões.

The author has written numerous books of fiction (beginning with Última Palavra: "Sim" /Last word: "Yes") in 1977. He has also published plays and literary criticism. But he is best known as a poet, with 30 books of poetry to date.

His first volume was A Noção de Poema (The Notion of a Poem) in 1972, followed, that same year with O Pavão Sonoro (The Sound of Peacocks). In 1985 he received the PEN Award for Lira de Liquen (Lichen Lyre), and in 1994 he was awarded the Portuguese Association of Writers award for Meditação sobre Ruinas (Meditation on Ruins). The book was also a finalist for the European literary prize, Aristeion. He published a volume of collected poems in 2001.

Júdice also edited the literary magazine, Tabacaria (The Tobacconist).

Translator Richard Zenith writes of Júdice's poetry: We find, lightly embedded in his verses, a profound theoretical reflection on life and on individual lives – lives he has perhaps lived, or dreamt, or witnessed. Some of the poems read like parables or allegories, but what do the symbols mean? Maybe they don’t mean anything, and maybe that doesn’t matter. Júdice’s poetry is a journey through memories, visions, real and imagined experiences, ideas and hypotheses, without any hope – or concern – to arrive at a conclusion."


A Noção de Poema (Lisbon: Publicações Dom Quixote, 1972); O Pavão Sonoro (1972); Crítica Doméstica dos Paralelipipedos (Lisbon: Publicações Dom Quixote, 1973); As Inumeráveis Águas (Lisbon: Assírio & Alvim, 1974); O Mecanismo Romântico da Fragmentação (Porto: Inova, 1975); Nos Braços da Exigua Luz (1976); O Corte na Ênfase (Oporto: Inova, 1978); O Voo de Igitur num Copo de Dados (Lisbon: & etc., 1981); A Partiha Dos mitos (1982); Lira de Líquen (Lisbon: Rolim, 1985); A Condescendência do Ser (Lisbon: Quetzal, 1988); Enumeração de Sombras (Lisbon: Quetzal, 1989); As Regras da Perspectiva (Lisbon: Quetzal, 1990); Uma Sequêde Outubro (1991); Obra Poética 1972-1985 (1991); Um Canto na Espessura do Tempo (Lisbon: Quetzal, 1992); Meditação sobre Ruínas (Lisbon: Quetzal, 1995); O Movimento do Mundo (Lisbon: Quetzal, 1996); Poems em Voz Alta (1996); A Fonte da Vida (Lisbon: Quetzal, 1997); Raptos (1998); Teoria Geral do Sentimento (Lisbon: Quetzal, 1999); Poesia Reunida (1967-2000) (Lisbon: Publicações Dom Quixote, 2000); Cartografia de Emoções (Lisbon: Publicações Dom Quixote, 2001); O Estado dos Campos (Lisbon: Publicações Dom Quixote, 2003); Geometria variável (Lisbon: Publicações Dom Quixote, 2005); As coisas mais simples (2006); A Matéria do Poema (2008); O Breve Sentimento do Eterno (2008); Guia de Conceitos Básicos (Lisbon: Publicações Dom Quixote, 2010)

For a selection of English language translations of Júdice's poetry, click below:

For a video of Júdice reading from his poetry in Portuguese, click here:

August 4, 2011

poem by Charles Bernstein "Recalculating"

For a new poem by Charles Bernstein, "Recalculating" from the on-line
magazine Conjunctions, click below:

Carlos Marzal

Carlos Marzal [Spain]

Born in Valencia, Spain in 1961, Carlos Marzal received his college degree in Hispanic Philology from the University of Valencia. For ten years he has edited the journal Quites (Remove).

His first book of poetry, El último de la fiesta (The Last of the Party), was published in 1987, and Marzal has published several volumes since, the fourth volume, Metales pesados (Heavy Metals) winning the Critics Award of Spanish poetry. In 2003 he won the Antonio Machado Poetry Award, and in 2004 the XVI International Poetry Prize.

Marzal's poetry has been grouped with the la poesía de la experiencia "group" (poetry of experience) of the 1980s and 1990s, along with writers such as Luis García Montero, Felipe Benítez Reyes and Vicente Gallego.

The poet has also published a novel Los reinos de la casualidad in 2005 and critical writing.

Marzal continues to reside in Valencia.


El último de la fiesta (Valencia: Renacimiento, 1987); La vida de frontera (Valencia: Renacimiento, 1991); Los países nocturnos (Barcelona: Tusquets, 1996); Metales pesados (Barcelona: Tusquets, 2001); Poesía a contratiempo (ed. by Andrés Neuman) (Maillot Amarillo, 2002); Sin porqué ni adónde (ed. Francisco Díaz de Castro) (Valencia: Renacimiento, 2003); Fuera de mí (XVI Premio de Poesía Fundación Loewe; Visor, 2004); El corazón perplejo (Barcelona: Tusquets, 2005).


No Other North: Selected Recent Poems of Carlos Marzal, trans. by Nathaniel Perry (in manuscript)

For a reading and performance by Carlos Marzal in Spanish, click here:

Emblem on the Wind

In this blink of history,
a history which isn't even a blink
in the pages of the astral calendar;
with the strange chisel of language,
language which just barely suggets
a way of feeling the world;
I want to leave a prive emblem written
on the wind, one which requires no further emphasis:
Your love has ennobled all that exists
Your love, which embodies
the entire testimony of love, your language,
the clear blinkthrough which you see
our shared home in the calendar.
Your love, which in itself suggests
the best way to feel the world,
a just emblem
with which love is written on the wind,
and the wind passes through history.

—Translated from the Spanish by Nathaniel Perry

(from Metales pesados, 2001)

O Bird, My Fright, My Fear

O bird, my fright, my fear,
wandering nightingale of shadows,
leave off your migrations for a moment,
abandon your motiveless errancies,
turn your wings in the inhospitable air
and alter your course towards the country
of permanent clear-sightedness,
that fatal landscape where there'll be no excuse
for your endless insomnia.

O bird, my fear, my fright,
delicate nightingale of my unease,
glide gracefully over the dun-colored world,
and alight on the single brach
a tree has reserved for you.

You haven't forgotte, delirious crow,
with you awful knowledge of reallity,
that to lives is a weak illusion,
a phantom incandescence snuffed out in the night.
You haven't forgotten, inconsolable bird,
that the sun will blink out and the universe
will be a tundra, frozen, unaware that it is
a tundra, with no memory of the sun or its failing,
no crow, no bird in inconsolable flight.

For this, O melancholy bird,
I want you now to sing a senseless song,
and for your tiny trill to ring out
in a moment of eternal purity,
like an act of absolute grace—
for your warbling to be a prayer
to the coming god of chaos,
a hymn composed on behalf of oblivion,
a rapture of casual splendor
that will carry over the farthest hills
that will celebrate, in perfect scandal,
the frozen ruins of the future.

If you can do that, I will forgive your wanderings,
warm creature of anguish,
nightingale of my vagabond soul,
O crow, my scarce, my fright,
O bird of fear.

Translated from the Spanish by Nathaniel Perry

(from Metales pesados, 2001)

English language translations copyright ©2011 by Nathaniel Perry. Reprinted from his unpublished manuscript No Other North: Selected Recent Poems of Carlos Marzal

Claude Gauvreau

Claude Gauvreau [Canada]

Claude Gauvreau was born in Montréal on August 19, 1925. As a young man he attended the Collège Ste-Marie, focusing on classical studies, followed by his studies of philosophy at the Université de Montréal, where he graduated with a B.A.

Gauvreau made his literary début at the early age of thirteen, writing and producing the play Ma vacation.

Later, through his brother Pierre, who attended l'École des beaux-arts, he became friendly with the painter Paul-Émile Borduas, who introduced him to modernist movements such as Dadaism, Surrealism, and Automatism, and through whom he met most of the major figures in the Montreal art community. He co-signed Borduas's famous manifesto, Refus global (Total Refusal), and wrote on the theoretical aspects of Automatism for the general public.

During this period Gauvreau wrote poetry that would not be published until much later in his life. The poems, ‘Entrailles’ were finally heard in the 1956 play Sur fil métamorphose. Étal mixte, composed in 1950, was published in 1968. Only Brochuges, which he worked on during the summer of 1954, was published early, in 1957. The poems of these volumes break word order, and dismember syntactical structures as language moves into phonic sounds, screams, and howls.

In 1947 Gauvreau wrote his first adult play, Bien-être, performed with another work at the Montreal Repertory Theatre. The actress in that play as Muriel Guilbault, with whom Gauvreau fell deeply in love. La jeune fille et la lune and Les grappes lucides followed in 1959, both at l'École des beaux-arts.

The suicide of Guilbault unhinged Gauvreau, and over the next eight years Gauvreau was institutionalized ten times, continuing to write radio plays and working on a novel, Beauté baroque (1952), about the life of Guilbault.

In 1956, Gauvreau wrote La charge de l'orignal épormyable, a work many believe is his dramatic masterwork. The play was not performed until 1970 at the Theatre du Gesu in Montréal. Others might argue for Les Oranges son vertes, a play performed at Théâtre du Nouveau Monde in 1972.

The year before, on July 7, 1971, Gauvreau fell to his death from the roof of his apartment, which some claimed was a suicide; the coroner ruled the death accidental.

Gauvreau's works, involving a deconstruction of language far before the deconstructionists began their writings, were deemed by some directors as impossible to perform, but today all of his work stands as a testament to his experimentation.


Sur fil metamorphose (Montréal: Erta, 1956); Brochuges (Montréal: Editions Feu-Antonin, 1957); Etal mixte (Montréal: Editions d'Orphee, 1968 / published as Etal mixte et autres poemes, 1948-1970 (Montréal: Hexagone, 1993); Oeuvres creatices completes (Montréal: Parti Pris, 1977)


Entrails, ed. by Ray Ellenwood (Toronto: Coach House Press, 1981)

For a reading from 1970 by Gauvreau in French, click below:

For a reading in French of Gauvreau's work by Nathalie Lessard, click here:

The Oval Mayonnaise and the Back of the Medieval Choir

Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum
Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum
Tiou—tiutiu—Panpan la falette
Agaïante ipluche
Mutton-chops masturbating on the two cheeks of the English lord
Lord lard
My clarent qeen and my clette clavete
Above and beyond the down of the market
Above and yeond the livestock of the golden-hayed dawn
My canonical chippyon straightened out hard as a bugle-band
At Potsdam the lark
What will scandalize everyone does not scandalize me
And some hay stacks
And some square bricks
The most substanific marrow
Agazzi Afraguiz as monte-to
The green pendulum There is nothing but Lèzomo


—Translated from the French by Ray Ellenwood

The Priest's Dice-Box

The Green Die: [misplaced by his master in the pantcuff of the stagemanager of a burlesque theatre]

The perfect of the folding screen escapes the soda of humiliating flavours. A rip, Sebastien, that's what it is.

What is this golden perfume, paragraph or wing or turret of flounder, that circles like a bicycle without handlebars or an alcoholic without braces? Braces or garter, it goes without saying. Blue braces with canary stocking. The garter's stocking, it goes without saying. Or the handle of a slender knife stuffed with ostrich plumes, cormorant ashes, moiré of albatross. I will walk in the tepidity of the chestnut, I mean the sidewalk of July, the dawn of sprightly grimaces, head on the lace pillow, between the mobile tight and the harlequin's pompon. cybilline and ashymass, I will watch the cigarette butts and the days of dresses fall amid salandasque sprinklings. Intimate clarity and phosphorescent crispness. I will decoutinate the bag, gathering up the priesthood of the shamrock and the golden key of the handsomecharness in the languid aroma of umbels.

I shall walk alert and figurative on the concrete flower beds, a sidewalk explorer, anguished forager of the daily street.

Halt of Stop or tin for preserves. The ingredient coffee box forcefully twisted outside the garbage can of wallflowers. Charming garbagecan, ethereal garbagecan, garbagecan with wings like a lily of the valley, garbagecan stretched out lengthwise, contracted in the arabasquist. I walk beside a garbagecan holding its hand, a garbagecan so transparent. I worry my friend with his fraternal enigma. I grip on and I clutch, you hang on too, the moon with head razor, I hold on and I walk, brushing the dews of light with a rainy stole, silence, mutated orison, silence creaks in the garbagecan where the chemist created vacuum.

Nothingness is wearing his new shoes, the oiled soles crack, the pulleys creak.

While scree stuffs the candid nightmares.

They, the nightmares, the candid ones, the chubbies, are happy with a rubber foot pretending to pestle in a plump chocolate cookie.

No, certainly not, the melodramas feed on a more compact tension when they greedily deglutition.

Stackers of tension, look, with lard perches and violencing brass fingers.

Soiled chimerical shockingly brass.

The garbagecan drifts and the cigarettes emigrate in a wind of blue blood. The stable aristocrat cuts out a silhouette of marble or of biscuit mixed into the stone on the kimono-climated decor which ejaculates taciturn black and sexual lemon. The atmospheric pink dust powders the pallid flesh which shakes rhythmically like metaphysical fat, rips with its senile teeth at the green taffeta furrow and the fleecy coat-of-arms. The humouristic and brainless rope mows down the oblique oily breath, Without a cry from Akdebar. But the Emperor Joudi rips apart the candelabra's appeasement like a pregnant sow.

Pig-headedly violaceous, and another teutonic song about existences in contraband. In solemn contraband. In contraband harnessed, hung to age and haggled over. And highly spiced with acutual. Egréoudouanel of the princely train with diamonds set in whipped cream, in sorbet with pitted cherries. The calm of the tartar barges, of the bridled interjections. Eye of almond, whisper of the city, here are the strung-out eyes, the eyes elonted in mint, here are the eyes soldered with marshmallow to the prosperity of rods, here is the frosted gleam sworn to mascara. The murmur of winds from the open sea, of animal wells.


And when the workers holiday spreads for a wide, I will sing, I will sing, I will sing.

Relaxation and fluorous brick.


—Translated from the French by Ray Ellenwood

English language translation copyright ©1981 by Ray Ellenwood. Reprinted from Entrails (Toronto: Coach House Press, 1981)

Eva Gerlach

Eva Gerlach [Netherlands]

Born in 1948, Eva Gerlach writes poetry for adults and children. Her first collection, Verder geen leed (No Further Distress) appeared in 1979, and since then she has written over sixteen collections, published primarily by Arbeiderspers in Amsterdam.

In 1989, she won the "Zilveren Griffel" for children's writing, after the publication of Hee meneer Eland (Hey Mr. Moose). In 2000 she was awarded the P.C. Hooft-prijs for her entire oeuvre, the jury writing of her poetry: "Everything starts moving, becomes ambiguous, gets a new meaning."

The Foundation for the Production and Translation of Dutch Literature has described Gerlach's writing: "Gerlach's poems, in their often dark way, are concerned with the themes that have concerned poets in all ages: transience, loss, the human condition. Avoiding any tendency towards the dramatic display or literary effect, she writes about the mysterious, invisible forces that goven our lives, about the thought 'that in presence lives a truth / greater than just that / of the address.'"

Gerlach's work has helped to move Dutch poetry in a direction different from the major post-war concerns—irony, therapeutic impact and linguistic autonomy—representing a writing that is modest, unsentimental, and yet penetrating of human emotions and motives.

BOOKS OF POETRY (adult works only)

Verder geen leed (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1979); Een kopstaand beeld (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1983); Dochter (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1984); Domicilie (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1987): De kracht van verlamming (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1988); In een bocht van de zee (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1990); Wat zoekraakt (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1994); Alles is werkelijk hier [with photographs by Vojta Dukát] (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1997); Niets bestendiger (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1998); Voorlopig verblijf, gedichten 1979-1990 (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1999); Solstitium [with illustrations by Marianne Aartsen] (Landgraff: Herik, 2000); De invulbare ruimte (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 2000); Daar ligt het (Amsterdam/Rotterdam: De Arbeiderspers/Poetry International, 2003); Jaagpad [with illustrations by Marianne Aartsen] (Maastricht: Glance-aside, 2003); Een bed van mensenvlees (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 2003); Situaties (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 2006)

For a selection of poems by Eva Gerlach, press here:


This is your eye. This is the sun. This tugging
cold, draught from a window left ajar.
This is water that fits you like a glove

This is the kettle singing on the stove
above the four knobs that control the gas.
Here you've the breadknife in its board's long groove.

All of these things you need to keep a grasp of.
Today, or soon, their say will make their sense.

—Translated from the Dutch by John Irons

(from Een kopstaand beeld, 1983)


I rushed through water, slipped and fell.
Legs to yourself someone said, deep
asleep beside me, sleep, don't shove. Slept
and rushed. No water anywhere.
Slipped, fell, He beside me
woke up, helped me to my feet,
brushed down my clothes. Better he said
to just run off. Not rush like that.

—Translated from the Dutch by John Irons

(from In een bocht van de zee, 1990)

Man Alive

He's there then outside, a fly lands on his tongue and
he spits it out, sees if it's living, allows it
to dry in his hand, with his stick touches all of the
mulberry tree's yellow leaves, each one in turn,
they fall to his fee. And the crow
does not leave him.
You want him, he's never again that man out there,

you've only just seen him and yet: at no time before
so perfectly framed in the light, man a-
live, all you know of him touches now
all that you see of him, there in the crook
of the question-mark mulberry tree
standing briefly translucent,

how you see him, his whole face
uplifted, the triangle under his chin, with the throat
most vulnerable, the skin there
now taut—never yours in this way, except when
inside you perhaps, forgotten—you want him, rap
on the window, he sees you, the fly he
throws up from his hand and upward it flies.

—Translated from the Dutch by John Irons

(from Situaties, 2006)

English language translations copyright (c)2007 by John Irons

August 2, 2011

essay-memoir on Barbara Guest "The Countess of Berkeley" by Douglas Messerli

For an essay-memoir on Barbara Guest "The Countess of Berkeley" by Douglas Messerli,
click here:

essay on Gertrude Stein "The Making of Tender Buttons" by Joshua Schuster

For an essay on Gertrude Stein "The Making of Tender Buttons: Gertrude Stein's Subject,
Objects, and the Illegible" by Joshua Schuster, click below:

Rolf Dieter Brinkmann

Rolf Dieter Brinkmann [Germany]

Born in Vechta, Germany on April 16, 1940, in the midst of World War II, Rolf Dieter Brinkmann was killed, while crossing the street, by a hit-and-run driver in April l975, while visiting London.

Brinkmann, whom many argued was one of the most original talents of his generation, was known in Germany for his bad-boy and self-destructive behavior; but he was also brilliantly productive, producing nine collections of poetry, several short story collections, radio plays and an acclaimed fiction. He also had translated American poets such as Frank O'Hara and Ted Berrigan.

A week before his death he had read at the Cambridge Poetry Festival with John Ashbery, Ed Dorn, Lee Harwood, and others.

His first collection of poetry Ihr nennt es Sprache, appeared in 1962, the year in which the poet had moved to Cologne. The next year, Brinkmann studied at the College of Education at Cologne, working on two further collections, Le Chant du Monde and Was fraglich ist wofür.

The following year he married Maleen Kramer and saw the birth of his son, Robert. He also received a young artists' award from North Rhine-Wesphalia. By 1966 he was a regular freelancer on WDR radio, speaking of literary criticism, while publishing his second collection of stories, Raupenbahn and two more collections of poetry, &-Gedichte and Ohne Neger.

His novel, Keiner weiß mehr appeared in 1968, along with two more poetry collections, Die Piloten and Godzilla. He also wrote that year a screenplay for WDR TV, "Der Abstieg."

Over the next few years his reputation grew, as he was invited twice to Villa Massimo in Rome, and to lecture at the University of Texas in Austin.

Soon after his 1975 death his seminal collection of poems Westwärts 1 & 2 was posthumously published and was awarded the prestigious Petrarca Prize.


Ih nennt es Sprache (1962); Le chant du monde (Olef/Eifel: Olefer Hagarpress, 1964); Was fraglich ist wofür (Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1967); &-Gedichte (1966); Ohne Neger (1966); Die Piloten (Colonge: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1968); Godzilla (Colonge: Hake, 1968); Standphotos: Gedichte 1962-1970 (Reinbek bein Hamburg: Rowohlt Verlag, 1980); Gras (Cologne: Kiepenheuer & Witsch, 1970); Westwärts 1 & 2 (Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt Verlag, 2005); Vorstellung meiner Hände: Frühe Gedichte (Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt Verlag, 2010)


Like a Pilot: Rolf Dieter Brinkmann, Selected Poems 1963-1970, trans. by Mark Terrill (Austin, Texas: Sulpher River Literary Press, 2001); Some Very Popular Songs, trans. by Mark Terrill (Claremont, California: Toad Press, 2010); An Unchanging Blue: Selected Poems 1962-1975, trans. by Mark Terrill (Anderson, South Carolina: Parlor Press, 2011)

For a performance by Rolf Dieter Brinkmann, click below:

For two poems by Brinkmann, published in Jacket, click here:

For four poems published bilingually in German and English by Brinkmann in The Green Integer Review, click below: