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Sérgio Monteiro de Almeida
Poema visual 0
Sérgio Monteiro de Almeida cv:
Curitiba, Brazil (1964). Intermedia visual poet and conceptual artist. – He has published in numerous anthologies and specialized magazines in Brazil and outside; participated in exhibitions of visual poetry as International Biennial of Visual and Alternative Poetry in Mexico (editions from 1987 to 2010); Post-Art International Exhibition of Visual / Experimental Poetry, San Diego State University-USA (1988); 51 and 53 Venice Biennial (2005 and 2009). – He published in 2007 the book Sérgio Monteiro de Almeida with a global vision about his work as a visual artist and poet. – This book was incorporated into the “Artist Books” collection of the New York City Library (USA). – Author of the CD of kinetic visual poems (EU) NI/IN VERSO (still unpublished). – He presented urban interventions in Curitiba, San Diego, Seattle, New York, Paris, Rome. – In 2014 and 2015 visual poems published in the Rampike experimental literature magazine of the University of Windsor, Canada. – He recently had his poems published in Jornal Candido (n. 64) and Relevo (2015 and 2016).
More about his work:
Livro eletrônico http://issuu.com/boek861/docs/sergio_monteiro_libro;
Enciclopédia Itaú Cultural de artes visuais www.itaucultural.com.br;
Videos no Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/user/SergioMAlmeida
Sérgio Monteiro de Almeida
Curitiba – PR – Brazil
email: sergio.ma@ufpr.br
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An extraordinary debut from a young Vietnamese American, Night Sky with Exit Wounds is a book of poetry unlike any other. Steeped in war and cultural upheaval and wielding a fresh new language, Vuong writes about the most profound subjects – love and loss, conflict, grief, memory and desire – and attends to them all with lines that feel newly-minted, graceful in their cadences, passionate and hungry in their tender, close attention: ‘…the chief of police facedown in a pool of Coca-Cola. A palm-sized photo of his father soaking beside his left ear.’
This is an unusual, important book: both gentle and visceral, vulnerable and assured, and its blend of humanity and power make it one of the best first collections of poetry to come out of America in years.
Biography: Ocean Vuong was born in a rice farm outside Saigon in 1988. At the age of two, after a year in a refugee camp, he and his family arrived in the US.
He is the first in his immediate family to learn how to read proficiently, at the age of eleven. With Ben Lerner as his mentor at Brooklyn College, he wrote the poems that would become this first collection.
A Ruth Lilly fellow and winner of a Pushcart Prize, he has received honours and awards from Poets House and the Academy of American Poets. Night Sky with Exit Wounds won the 2016 Whiting Award. Ocean Vuong lives in New York.
‘These are poems of exquisite beauty, unashamed of romance, and undaunted by looking directly into the horrors of war, the silences of history. One of the most important debut collections for a generation.’ Andrew McMillan
Shortlisted for the 2017 Felix Dennis Prize for Best First Collection
Ocean Vuong
Night Sky with Exit Wounds
Cape Poetry, 2017
96 Pages,
129mm x 197mm x 9mm
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More in: - Book News, Archive U-V, Art & Literature News, Ocean Vuong
An ode to mothers, daughters, and sisters—the tiny gods who fight to change the world.
Textured with the sights and sounds of growing up in East New York in the nineties, to school on the South Side of Chicago, all the way to the olive groves of Palestine, these stunning poems tackle racism, sexism, genocide, displacement, heartbreak, and grief, but also love, motherhood, spirituality, and Black joy.
“Aja Monet ‘s poetry offers us textures of feeling and radical shifts of meaning that expand our capacity to envision and fight for new worlds. From Brooklyn, USA to Hebron, Occupied Palestine, we take a feminist journey through rage and serenity, through violence and love, through ancient times and imagined futures. This stunning volume reminds us that conflict and contradiction can produce hope and that poetry can orient us toward a future we may not yet realize we want.” Angela Y. Davis
Aja Monet
My Mother Was a Freedom Fighter
Publisher: Haymarket Books
ISBN: 9781608467679
2017, $16.00
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Rosa Parks
She told a big white man
a big no right in his face.
Nose to nose and quite scary
as if a lynching could result.
She didn’t flinch and said
she could’ve
and should’ve
be able to do this
one easy thing that day.
There she sat, little and grand,
and although she was the first
to sit on a bus in the white seats
she was bayed at as if this symbol
was like rejecting the public stocks.
This small piece of America
became everything,
a wave began and was unstoppable.
I don’t know much else about all this
but I am interested in my liberty.
She could have said it like that.
21.03.04
Vincent Berquez
Vincent Berquez is a London–based artist and poet
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Volgens Pierre Maréchal was de Brabantse dichter Frans Babylon een zieke poète maudit die zowel de poëzie als de kunst stimuleerde te vernieuwen. Brabant liep sterk achter bij de ontwikkelingen.
Uiteindelijk verwierp hij de traditionele dichtstijlen en schreef hij gedichten op gevoel. Met vrienden vormde hij de Bredero-club en stimuleerde hij kunstenaars om zich verder te ontwikkelen. Babylon bevorderde eveneens de ontwikkeling van openbare kunstexposities voor groot publiek.
Naast Brabant en Amsterdam was Frankrijk een geliefde omgeving. Ondanks zijn bipolaire stoornis en dankzij zijn creativiteit bracht Frans Babylon veel tot stand.
Pierre Maréchal werkte onder meer voor de internationale trekvogel-bescherming. Ruim twintig jaar is hij actief bezig met poëzie. Hij schrijft en organiseert maandelijks diverse podia en optredens. De laatste jaren doet hij dit bij de PoëzieClub Eindhoven en de werkgroep ‘Boekenkast’. Frans Babylon – herinneringsgewijs is typisch zo’n onderwerp. Het is een project over een bekende en tegelijk een minder bekende dichter, wiens daden van betekenis waren voor de ontwikkeling van de poëzie en de kunsten in het zuiden van ons land.
Pierre L.Th.A. Maréchal
Frans Babylon – herinneringsgewijs
Biografie Frans Babylon,
pseudoniem van Franciscus Gerardus Jozef Obers (1924 – 1968)
ISBN: 978-94-0223-720-7
Paperback 12,5 x 20 cm
186 pag. – 2017
€ 19,99
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More in: *Archive Les Poètes Maudits, - Archive Tombeau de la jeunesse, - Book News, Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Art & Literature News, Babylon, Frans, Brabantia Nostra, Frans Babylon
Refreshing, witty, and absolutely close to the heart, Core’s twenty stories, set in and around New York City, have an other-worldly quality along with a deep seriousness—even a moral seriousness.
What we know of identity is smashed and in its place, true individuals emerge, each bristling with a unique sexuality, a belief-system all their own. Reminiscent of Jane Bowles, William Burroughs, and Colette, her writing glows with an authenticity that is intoxicating and rare.
When Watched
Stories (2016)
By Leopoldine Core
Paperback
Aug 2016
240 Pages
ISBN10 0143128698
Penguin Books
Literary Awards:
Whiting Award Winner
PEN/Hemingway Award Finalist
Lambda Literary Award Finalist
Longlisted for the PEN/Robert W. Bingham Prize for Debut Fiction & The Story Prize
“Core’s stories have a voyeuristic quality, like peering through the windows of a groundfloor apartment as you walk by. . . . Core’s narrative voice has earned her comparisons to Mary Gaitskill, Jane Bowles and even William Burroughs, but these references don’t do justice to the intimacy and relative gentleness with which the author treats her group of modern, often millennial drifters. . . . Core captures a precious slice of what it is to be human. . . . She reaches moments of extraordinary grace.”
—Alexandra Kleeman, The New York Times Book Review
“Core’s prose isn’t fancy, but it’s gemstone smooth, and that’s its most important quality: the writing is a seamless, nearly translucent vehicle that connects us to the tangled brushwork of her characters—their sorrows and desires and their so many attempts at striving for human intimacy more profound than strained conversations.”
—The Paris Review Daily
Leopoldine Core was born and raised in New York’s East Village and graduated from Hunter College. Her fiction and poetry have appeared in The Paris Review Daily, Open City, PEN America and Apology Magazine, among others. She is the recipient of a 2015 Whiting Award for fiction, as well as fellowships from The Center for Fiction and The Fine Arts Work Center. Author of the poetry collection Veronica Bench, Core lives in New York.
(. . .)
I’ve thought hard about this.
I’ve dug a dirt hole in my own
bedroom and lived there
rubbing my clit with a penny
under my blanket
there’s an old sandwich
and a jewel.
(from poem: ITS NOT SILENCE)
Veronica Bench
Poems (2015)
By Leopoldine Core
“I like that Leopoldine’s last name is Core because that is what her poems are: essential (like heaven on earth) and ephemeral (as in apple core). Her talent’s in world-making, conjuring dialogic, chimeric moods that dust up an effet-monde only to let it drop casually, a strip-club curtain. Her zen-archery ease with poetry almost lets you forget how hard it really is to write like this: to be ‘gutting with text’ one’s visions—writing not *about* God & sex but simply writing them. Her fluctuating registers and the sweet, cocky, somewhat lapidary sense of space on the page make me think of Han Shan or St. Giraud of the Naomi Poems. Core should write forever.” —Ana Božičević
“It’s hard to read these poems without falling in love—at least for an afternoon—with Leopoldine. She isn’t speaking so much as flying.” —Sparrow
# More information on website Penguin Books
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Selected poems from the critically acclaimed author of Atomised and Submission: Michel Houellebecq
This selection of poems chosen from four collections shines a fresh light on Michel Houellebecq and emphasises the radical singularity of his work. Drawing on similar themes as his novels, Unreconciled is a journey into the depths of individual experience and universal passions.
Divided into five parts, Unreconciled forms a narrative of love, hopelessness, catastrophe and, ultimately, redemption. In a world of supermarkets and public transport, Houellebecq manages to find traces of divine grace even as he exposes our inexorable decline into chaos.
Told through forms and rhythms that are both ancient and new, with language steeped in the everyday, Houellebecq’s vision of our era is one brimming with tensions that cannot – and will not – be reconciled.
Michel Houellebecq
Unreconciled
Poems 1991–2013
Translation Gavin Bowd
Penguin UK
William Heinemann editor
Published 12th January 2017
144mm x 222mm x 31mm
336 Pages, £16.99
Dual-language edition
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More in: - Book News, Archive G-H, Michel Houellebecq, TRANSLATION ARCHIVE
With ambitious manipulations of poetic forms, Tyehimba Jess presents the sweat and story behind America’s blues, worksongs and church hymns.
Part fact, part fiction, Jess’s much anticipated second book weaves sonnet, song, and narrative to examine the lives of mostly unrecorded African American performers directly before and after the Civil War up to World War I. Olio is an effort to understand how they met, resisted, complicated, co-opted,
Tyehimba Jess is the author of leadbelly and the Pulitzer Prize–winning Olio. leadbelly was a winner of the 2004 National Poetry Series. Library Journal and Black Issues Book Review both named it one of the “Best Poetry Books of 2005.” Jess’s second book, Olio, won the 2017 Pulitzer Prize in Poetry, the 2017 Anisfield-Wolf Book Award in Poetry, and the 2017 Book Award for Poetry from the Society of Midland Authors. It was also a finalist for the 2016 National Books Critics Circle Award, 2017 PEN/Jean Stein Book Award, and the 2017 Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award. Library Journal called it a “daring collection, which blends forthright, musically acute language with portraiture” and Publishers Weekly, in a starred review, called it “Encyclopedic, ingenious, and abundant” and selected it as one of the five best poetry books of 2016.
Jess, a Cave Canem and NYU alumnus, received a 2004 Literature Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts, and was a 2004-2005 Winter Fellow at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center. Jess is also a veteran of the 2000 and 2001 Green Mill Poetry Slam Team, and won a 2000 – 2001 Illinois Arts Council Fellowship in Poetry, the 2001 Chicago Sun-Times Poetry Award, and a 2006 Whiting Fellowship. He exhibited his poetry at the 2011 TEDxNashville Conference. Jess is the Poetry and Fiction Editor of the African American Review and is Associate Professor of English at College of Staten Island.
Jess’ fiction and poetry have appeared in anthologies such as Angles of Ascent: A Norton Anthology of Contemporary African American Poetry, Beyond The Frontier: African American Poetry for the Twenty-First Century, Role Call: A Generational Anthology of Social and Political Black Literature and Art, Bum Rush the Page: A Def Poetry Jam, Power Lines: Ten Years of Poetry from Chicago’s Guild Complex, Slam: The Art of Performance Poetry. His poetry has appeared in journals such as American Poetry Review, Brilliant Corners, Ploughshares, Obsidian III: Literature in the African Diaspora, Warpland: A Journal of Black Literature and Ideas, Mosaic, American Poetry Review, Indiana Review, Nashville Review and 580 Split.
A tremendous, and tremendously accessible, book of poetry.
Molly McArdle, Brooklyn Magazine
[Olio is] something people who care for the music, or for African American cultural history, will read and reread, whether or not they notice its ambitious expansions of what has been possible for the contemporary poem.
Stephen Burt, American Poets
OLIO
By Tyehimba Jess
Publication Date: April 2016
Publisher: Wave Books
Website: https://www.wavepoetry.com/
ISBN# 9781940696201 (7×10 224pp, paperback)
ISBN# 9781940696225 (7×10 224pp, limited edition hardcover)
PAPERBACK TEMPORARILY SOLD OUT – Books will be back in stock in June. This includes both paperback and a limited number of hardcover copies. Preorders are currently open for the hardcover below; just place your hardcover order, and we will ship the book to you in June. Paperbacks can be ordered once the book is back in stock.
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De ‘Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard’ van Thomas Gray (1716-1771), voltooid in 1750, is een van de allerbekendste gedichten uit de Engelse literatuurgeschiedenis.
Typisch voor de 18de eeuw generaliseert en moraliseert de dichter naar hartelust in ‘poëtische’ taal.
Toch illustreert zijn tekst ook op frappante maar voorzichtige wijze trends die tot de ‘allerindividueelste emoties’ van de Romantiek zouden leiden.
‘Far from the madding crowd’ (later geleend door Thomas Hardy als romantitel) stelt de hooggeleerde dichter zich voor eenzaam door het dorpsgebied te zwerven en tenslotte op het dorpskerkhof begraven te liggen.
William Blake (1757-1827), auteur van de beroemde Songs of Innocence and of Experience (1795), sneed in 1797 de tekst van Gray’s Elegy uit een uitgave van Gray’s poëzie uit 1790, bevestigde die in uitsparingen van aquarelbladen en schilderde zo elf bladen met een illustratie rondom de tekst.
Een bekende uitspraak van Blake is ‘wie generaliseert is een idioot’, maar in Gray’s gedicht zag hij blijkbaar vooral de individuele en romantische kant ervan. Zo ontstond een uniek eenmalig product voor een opdrachtgever, dat pas in 1920 in de publiciteit kwam.
Gray’s originele strofen en de naar vorm en inhoud getrouwe Nederlandse vertaling van Cornelis W. Schoneveld staan onder elkaar, naast Blake’s esoterische illustraties.
Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet e’en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
x Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e’er resigned,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
Thomas Gray
Ver van het twistend volk, in dwaas verval,
Zwierven hun sobere wensen nooit van huis;
In ’t koele afgescheiden levensdal
Hielden zij koers, zonder het minst geruis.
Ter wering van hun beenderen tegen kwaad
Verzoekt een wrakke zerk, hier opgericht,
In grof reliëf en verzen zwak van maat,
Een zucht van de passant als ereplicht.
x Jaren en naam, door ’n Muze slecht gespeld,
Vervangen lofgezang en rouwgedicht,
En menig heilig woord van Haar vertelt
De vrome landman van zijn dood in zicht.
Want wie zei ooit, vergetelheid ten prooi,
Vaarwel tegen ’t bezorgd maar schoon bestaan,
Verliet het dagdomein, zo warm, zo mooi,
Zonder een draalblik talend terug te slaan?
Vertaling Cornelis W. Schoneveld
Thomas Gray
Treurzang geschreven op een dorpskerkhof
Vertaling en voorwoord Cornelis W. Schoneveld
isbn: 978 90 824288 7 2
Uitg. DWT De Wilde Tomaat
2017, 27 pag.
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More in: - Book News, Archive G-H, Blake, William, POETRY IN TRANSLATION: SCHONEVELD
Pierre-Jean de Béranger
Le petit homme gris
Il est un petit homme,
Tout habillé de gris,
Dans Paris ;
Joufflu comme une pomme,
Qui, sans un sou comptant,
Vit content,
Et dit : Moi, je m’en…
Et dit : Moi, je m’en…
Ma foi, moi, je m’en ris !
Oh ! qu’il est gai (bis),
Le petit homme gris !
A courir les fillettes,
A boire sans compter,
A chanter,
Il s’est couvert de dettes ;
Mais quant aux créanciers,
Aux huissiers,
Il dit : Moi, je m’en…
Il dit : Moi, je m’en…
Ma foi, moi, je m’en ris !
Oh ! qu’il est gai [bis),
Le petit homme gris !
Qu’il pleuve dans sa chambre,
Qu’il s’y couche le soir
Sans y voir ;
Qu’il lui faille en décembre
Souffler, faute de bois,
Dans ses doigts ;
Il dit : Moi, je m’en…
Il dit : Moi, je m’en…
Ma foi, moi, je m’en ris !
Oh ! qu’il est gai (bis),
Le petit homme gris !
Sa femme, assez gentille,
Fait payer ses atours
Aux amours :
Aussi plus elle brille,
Plus on le montre du doigt.
Il le voit,
Et dit : Moi, je m’en…
Et dit : Moi, je m’en…
Ma foi, moi, je m’en ris !
Oh ! qu’il est gai (bis),
Le petit homme gris !
Quand la goutte l’accable
Sur un lit délabré,
Le curé,
De la mort et du diable
Parle à ce moribond,
Qui répond :
Ma foi, moi, je m’en…
Ma foi, moi, je m’en…
Ma foi, moi, je m’en ris !
Oh ! qu’il est gai (bis),
Le petit homme gris !
Pierre-Jean de Béranger (1780-1857)
Le petit homme gris
Toutes les chansons de Béranger (1843)
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D.H. Lawrence
Tortoise Shout
I thought he was dumb,
I said he was dumb,
Yet I’ve heard him cry.
First faint scream,
Out of life’s unfathomable dawn,
Far off, so far, like a madness, under the horizon’s dawning rim,
Far, far off, far scream.
Tortoise in extremis.
Why were we crucified into sex?
Why were we not left rounded off, and finished in ourselves,
As we began,
As he certainly began, so perfectly alone?
A far, was-it-audible scream,
Or did it sound on the plasm direct?
Worse than the cry of the new-born,
A scream,
A yell,
A shout,
A pæan,
A death-agony,
A birth-cry,
A submission,
All tiny, tiny, far away, reptile under the first dawn.
War-cry, triumph, acute-delight, death-scream reptilian,
Why was the veil torn?
The silken shriek of the soul’s torn membrane?
The male soul’s membrane
Torn with a shriek half music, half horror.
Crucifixion.
Male tortoise, cleaving behind the hovel-wall of that dense female,
Mounted and tense, spread-eagle, out-reaching out of the shell
In tortoise-nakedness,
Long neck, and long vulnerable limbs extruded, spread-eagle over her house-roof,
And the deep, secret, all-penetrating tail curved beneath her walls,
Reaching and gripping tense, more reaching anguish in uttermost tension
Till suddenly, in the spasm of coition, tupping like a jerking leap, and oh!
Opening its clenched face from his outstretched neck
And giving that fragile yell, that scream,
Super-audible,
From his pink, cleft, old-man’s mouth,
Giving up the ghost,
Or screaming in Pentecost, receiving the ghost.
His scream, and his moment’s subsidence,
The moment of eternal silence,
Yet unreleased, and after the moment, the sudden, startling jerk of coition, and at once
The inexpressible faint yell
And so on, till the last plasm of my body was melted back
To the primeval rudiments of life, and the secret.
So he tups, and screams
Time after time that frail, torn scream
After each jerk, the longish interval,
The tortoise eternity,
Agelong, reptilian persistence,
Heart-throb, slow heart-throb, persistent for the next spasm.
I remember, when I was a boy,
I heard the scream of a frog, which was caught with his foot in the mouth of an up-starting snake;
I remember when I first heard bull-frogs break into sound in the spring;
I remember hearing a wild goose out of the throat of night
Cry loudly, beyond the lake of waters;
I remember the first time, out of a bush in the darkness, a nightingale’s piercing cries and gurgles startled the depths of my soul;
I remember the scream of a rabbit as I went through a wood at midnight;
I remember the heifer in her heat, blorting and blorting through the hours, persistent and irrepressible;
I remember my first terror hearing the howl of weird, amorous cats;
I remember the scream of a terrified, injured horse, the sheet-lightning
And running away from the sound of a woman in labor, something like an owl whooing,
And listening inwardly to the first bleat of a lamb,
The first wail of an infant,
And my mother singing to herself,
And the first tenor singing of the passionate throat of a young collier, who has long since drunk himself to death,
The first elements of foreign speech
On wild dark lips.
And more than all these,
And less than all these,
This last,
Strange, faint coition yell
Of the male tortoise at extremity,
Tiny from under the very edge of the farthest far-off horizon of life.
The cross,
The wheel on which our silence first is broken,
Sex, which breaks up our integrity, our single inviolability, our deep silence
Tearing a cry from us.
Sex, which breaks us into voice, sets us calling across the deeps, calling, calling for the complement,
Singing, and calling, and singing again, being answered, having found.
Torn, to become whole again, after long seeking for what is lost,
The same cry from the tortoise as from Christ, the Osiris-cry of abandonment,
That which is whole, torn asunder,
That which is in part, finding its whole again throughout the universe.
D.H.Lawrence (1883 – 1930)
Tortoise Shout
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More in: Archive K-L, D.H. Lawrence, Lawrence, D.H.
Ton van Reen
Dode Vogel
Een dode vogel
in een droog landschap
De nagels in een laatste kramp
vastgeklemd rond de tak
houden hem overeind in de zon
Kleurige vleugels
bedekken zijn lege lijf
de witte oogkassen
door de wind leeggevreten
Hij is de wachter
die waarschuwt voor de dood
Ton van Reen: Dode Vogel
Uit: De naam van het mes. Afrikaanse gedichten In 2007 verschenen onder de titel: De straat is van de mannen bij BnM Uitgevers in De Contrabas reeks. ISBN 9789077907993 – 56 pagina’s – paperback
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