Some Quotes from Pages of the Notanda of Zong! by M. NourbeSe Philip

192

there are two poems — the one i want to write and the one writing itself

195

Within the boundaries established by the words and their meanings there are silences; within each silence is the poem, which is revealed only when the text is fragmented and mutilated,

the ancients walk within us.

196

the metamorphosis occurs when the lower case "silence" of the colonised becomes the fertile Silence of the Traveler, a Silence that arises from a rooting in tradition and a knowing of what the colonial script was all about.

197

The language...promulgated the non-being of African peoples and I distrust its order, which hides disorder; its logic hiding the illogic and its rationality, which is simultaneously irrational.

In...disorder and illogic is the non-telling of the story that must be told.

198

Int he present case I use the text of the legal report almost as a painter uses paint or a sculptor stone — the material with which I work being preselected and limited. Henry Moore observed that his manner of working was to remove all extraneous material to allow the figure that was "locked" in the stone to reveal itself.

199

I want poetry to disassemble the ordered, to create disorder and mayhem so as to release the story that cannot be told, but which, through not-telling, will tell itself.

The story that cannot be told must not-tell itself in a language already contaminated, possibly irrevocably and fatally. I resist the temptation of trying to cleanse it through ordering techniques and practices, for the story must tell itself, even if it is a partial story; it must be allowed to be and not be. The half-tellings, and un-tellings force me to enter the zone of contamination to complete it; in so doing I risk being contaminated by the prescribed language of the law — by language in fact.

Scatterthoughts on one by Jen Hofer

if a wall is a river

a bit of interference

flowing past the checkpoint

makes the image accurate


How can blockage or obstruction communicate more, or more effectively than clarity? In one, Jen Hofer posits: how can a wall be a river? I suppose the reverse would be more clear, more obvious: the question of a river being a wall. This is something the media talks about ad nauseum: how a river, for example, the Río Bravo/Río Grande becomes literally a wall, a border, a division. But I think postulating the opposite here brings up this pertinent question: how can a wall be a river? How can we take apart a wall and make it a river? What does this thinking or languaging do to the wall itself? And so then if a wall is a river, then a bit of interference could actually flow through the wall, past the checkpoint and Jen is letting us know that the image could be more accurate then, with this interference flowing through it and preventing it from being altogether clear.

Jen is thinking a lot about what the city feels like in wartime, how the days have "gone lax with likes with unrequited ease as there is in this metropolis such a dizzy bungalow sense of radiating spokes with no center to sing of." There is a horror in this distance from the war, a horror in the distance from the suffering upon which our days of ease are based.

The lines are often interrupted, broken, sometimes by dashes or white space or parentheses, and also by challenging paratactic leaps from one conglomeration of words to the next. There is so much beauty in the leaps, in the dispersive moments when (as if a bomb has gone off) the words scatter across the page and then (un)expectedly reunite at the close of a section into a tight stanza that seems to re-stab in forceful and gut-wrenching ways.

Loved it.

Dusie!

Check out the Dusie Kollektiv profile in Openned Poetry Zine. A few snippets:

The Dusie Kollektiv, founded in 2005 by Susana Gardner of Zurich, Switzerland, an extension of her online poetry journal Dusie and the imprint Dusie Books, focuses on the work of innovative writers both established and emerging. The Dusie Kollektiv Projekt marries several attentions of its founder: the hand-made book, the development of a poetry community, and the gift-economy ... Each member of the collective produces two versions of a chapbook: a limited edition of hand- crafted chapbooks sent out to every other member of the collective, with free digital pdf chapbooks available via the Dusie website: dusie.org.

Read the whole article here.

Thrilled to be participating this year, even though unfortunately it's the last year of the Kollektiv exchange. Planning out my book-object-artist-author-found-gift-thing now.

3,217 new students from the U.S. attending Tijuana schools. Either they were deported themselves or followed parents who were deported back to Mexico. Article in Spanish here.


Free download of Juventud Bruta,
featuring music by the best of actual latinpopalternaelectrogoodmusic
like Fother Muckers, Juan Cicerol, Odisea and more.

It's a new compilation album
from the amazing folk of Club Fonograma.

Y es gratis! Gratis! Gratis!

The Black Minutes is one of the Best Translated Books from last year!




The Black Minutes, translated by tu servidor y Aura Estrada, made the list of 25 books on the longlist for the 2011 Best Translated Book Award! From the press release:

The 25-title fiction longlist for the 2011 Best Translated Book Awards was announced this morning at Three Percent—a resource for international literature at the University of Rochester. According to award co-founder Chad W. Post, this year’s longlist is a “testament to the number of high-quality works in translation that are making their way to American readers, thanks to a number of talented translators and exciting publishing houses.”

See all the info here.


I have to say
what is said. I
don't have
to believe it
myself.


- Herodotus


So much for
what is said
by           the
Egyptians
let anyone
who finds
such things
credible make
use of them.


- Herodotus




I never arrived at the translation I would have liked to do... But over the years of working at it, I came to think of translating as a room, not exactly an unknown room, where one gropes for the light switch.

- from Nox by Anne Carson


No escribo porque pienso que soy Bueno.

Rather writing for me is evidence of a necessary process.

For winter break, some friends and I are posting daily poems at this blogsite:


Which I love. I love the blog, the e-po-community and the dailyness of it. These are all drafts. These poems may disappear at some later date from the interweb or re-emerge totally new and altered and different. This is a first appearance of them. Since I will be posting manically over there until early January, I will most likely be posting a lot less here. Can I say too, I love the title of our communal blog. Is it

snow drift snow

or

snow drifts now?

You be the judge.

The Feminicide Continues

Con el rostro ovalado y la mirada firme tras los espejuelos, Marisela Escobedo me dijo que primero moriría que dejar de luchar por esclarecer el asesinato de su hija Rubí Marisol. “Es por ella, pero es por todas las hijas de las demás mujeres de México”, me dijo con la voz entrecortada, “porque al Estado mexicano hace rato que la vida de las mujeres no le importa, entonces seremos nosotras las que digamos, hasta la muerte, que sí valemos, que nuestras hijas merecen un país seguro. Yo sé quién es el asesino y no voy a quedarme callada”.

Estas fueron las últimas palabras que escuché de Marisela hace unos meses. Ayer fue asesinada, emblemáticamente, frente a las puertas del Palacio de Gobierno de Chihuahua. Sus últimas palabras fueron consignas solitarias por la justicia y la no impunidad de los feminicidios.


Más info en español de Lydia Cacho.

Info in English about one of the latest killings: from the El Paso Times.