To wrap up this new body of mine

Hi, folks, Next on my series of poetry posts for Spanish and Portuguese Reading Months, hosted by Stuart and Richard, you have three poems by Brazilian poet Ana Guadalupe, translated by Jacob Steinberg and by the author herself. Hope you enjoy! Yours truly, J. girl turned mosquito by Ana Guadalupe, translated by Ana Guadalupe & Jacob Steinberg Source: here one…

A woman with exposed bricks

Hi, folks, Next on my series of poetry posts for Spanish and Portuguese Reading Months, hosted by Stuart and Richard, you have five poems by Brazilian poet Angélica Freitas, translated by Hilary Kaplan. Hope you enjoy! Yours truly, J. Artichoke Angélica Freitas, translated from the Portuguese by Hilary Kaplan Source: Granta 132 – Possession – Summer 2015 amelia, the real woman,…

To embrace the whale

Hi, Folks, Next on my series of poetry posts for Spanish and Portuguese Reading Months, hosted by Stuart and Richard, you have four poems by Brazilian poet Alice Sant’Anna, translated by Tiffany Higgins. Hope you enjoy! Yours truly, J. THAT MOMENT AN ENORMOUS TAIL by Alice Sant’Anna, translated by Tiffany Higgins Source: Ghost Town Lit Mag of the whale would…

What day knits night forgets

Hi, folks! Stuart and Richard are hosting the Spanish and Portuguese Reading Months in July & August, and I will take this opportunity not only to read some damn good books written in the last flower of Lazio, but also to showcase some of my favourite Portuguese-speaking poets. To start, you have three poems by Brazilian poet Ana Martins Marques,…

The wind was a green ghost

“Feel Me “Feel me to do right,” our father said on his deathbed. We did not quite know—in fact, not at all—what he meant. His last whisper was spent as through a slot in a wall. He left us a key, but how did it fit? “Feel me to do right.” Did it mean that,…

The tempting fruit that hung above you

Shards I can never remake the thing I have destroyed; I brushed the golden dust from the moth’s bright wing, I called down wind to shatter the cherry-blossoms, I did a terrible thing. I feared that the cup might fall, so I flung it from me; I feared that the bird might fly, so I…

And if you’re lost enough to find yourself

Dear Robert, Something strong and heavy built upon a void: that’s what your poem “Directive” looks like for me. You are at the heart of paradox, that’s the place where you are writing from: “a house that is no more a house, / upon a farm that is no more a farm/ and in a…

the flood of my affection

  this silence like ova bursting in my mouth, my eyes windows shivering behind the storm just before the break I lean my face into the glass pane, something trembles in your gaze, an imperceptible gap: I go          through          it, my mouth full of shrapnel my chest…

Cool as from underground springs and pure enough to drink

“The Man-Moth – by Elizabeth Bishop Man-Moth: Newspaper misprint for “mammoth.” Here, above, cracks in the buildings are filled with battered moonlight. The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat. It lies at his feet like a circle for a doll to stand on, and he makes an inverted pin, the…

Ripe for the mouths of chance lovers, or birds

“Sub Contra – Louise Bogan Notes on the tuned frame of strings Plucked or silenced under the hand Whimper lightly to the ear, Delicate and involute, Like the mockery in a shell. Lest the brain forget the thunder The roused heart once made it hear,— Rising as that clamor fell,— Let there sound from music’s…

A product of the interplay of traveled hearts

The Heart of a Woman The heart of a woman goes forth with the dawn, As a lone bird, soft winging, so restlessly on, Afar o’er life’s turrets and vales does it roam In the wake of those echoes the heart calls home. The heart of a woman falls back with the night, And enters…