which is noblest
byTony Oats’ Colombian Spanish translation of ATM 1 poem by Stewart Home from his latest “SEND CA$H” collection. ATM 1 There are 3 ways…
Tony Oats’ Colombian Spanish translation of ATM 1 poem by Stewart Home from his latest “SEND CA$H” collection. ATM 1 There are 3 ways…
By Miah Artola The Invisible Deers My first healer was irritated and said I needed to take myself in hand. This did not help…
There is a difference between the ‘is’ of identity and the ‘is’ of prediction. There is no single thing that is death, AND there is no single property which the many forms of deaths share. For that matter, no single form of death has an essence. We thus live not so much in a patchwork quilt of death, but a kaleidoscope of deaths.
We know that patriarchy and its neoliberal offspring have destroyed the planet and quite nearly destroyed us, and we know that the answer to this path of destruction lies in unlocking the secrets of the brujas and the xamans and connecting with Mother Earth and tuning our lives to Her.
There’s a plight being delivered. She has a fetish for being the final historian, the final cultural avatar, she feeds the need and hence must take the persona of goddess, a tragedian and cremator of worlds. In a world of diffracted male fact she becomes a curator of new worlds. It’s a heavy responsibility bearing distress, loneliness as well as good bourn. She builds using memory, imagination and exterior English, that is, a language that remains out of touch with both itself and her cerebral thoughts. The collection reads like a long message in a bottle, from someone who lives elsewhere, and knows more than what would be found in a normal message or letter.
Octavio Paz knew something when he said poets were parachuting over the ‘post-babelic’ ruins somewhere off the main highway – or maybe that was the Chilean Vicente Huidobro’s Altazor. Negritude, existentialism, lettrisme, Dada, Oulipo, Fluxus, situationism, magical realism, feminism, post-colonialism are all creation stories and etiologies, defeating volcanos and assigning new destinies, eating new Gods. It’s a poetry Stewart Home would recognize as living now, dying later.
It gives us something new and something important and most of all it gives us poems that look like literary sculptures, not just on the page, where they allow the page (and us) to breathe, but like four dimensional sculptures that bend through time in a kind of minimalist beauty.
She has broken up the white light into its constituent spectral colours creating the rainbow effect. You see, she has not broken the law, she has only broken up the light, shedding the light onto that sacred halo of all Christian Saints which is the kundalini energy expressed through the crown chakra. And here I know I lost…this argument with the Polish censorship, if not yet the Polish religious police, and now I am finally and certainly banned…