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In 1980 – Ik, de zelfzuchtige aap worden de levens van Ratel, Dr. Pink, Klein Yani, Chloë, Louise-Michelle, Schmaus en Emiel de B. verder opgepakt. Anno 1980 maken zij deel uit van de no-future generatie.
De maatschappij biedt werkeloosheid, armoe en woningnood, dus zoeken ze hun heil en toekomst buiten de kleinburgerlijke paden, in de kraakscene, het activisme, new wave muziek en seksuele escapades.
Het ontredderde X-Burg, beroofd van haar textielnijverheid, biedt het stratenplan voor brutale bondige scènes, al doolt Emiel de B. liever door Berlijn. Je hoeft maar een hoek om te slaan om je vast te lopen in het verleden en te beseffen dat de onontkoombare psychogeografie van de stad in iedere steen is verankerd.
1980 – Ik, de zelfzuchtige aap
Swart, Nick J.
Uitgeverij IJzer, Utrecht
ISBN 9789086842865
Formaat: 15 x 23 cm
Omvang: 400 pagina’s
€25,00
Uitgeverij IJzer
Lessinglaan 97
3533 AV Utrecht
Telefoon: 030 – 2521798
e-mail: info@uitgeverij-ijzer.nl
Nick J. Swarth is geboren en getogen in Tilburg, waar hij woont en werkt. Hij is een artistieke vijfpoot, actief als schrijver, dichter, performer, muzikant en beeldend kunstenaar. Eind 2020 verscheen zijn debuutroman, ‘1980 – De plasserparadox’, het eerste deel uit een trilogie over een failliete stad in het activistische jaar 1980.
Swarth was de tweede stadsdichter van Tilburg (2005-2007), hetgeen resulteerde in de bundel ‘Naked City Poems’. Andere publicaties zijn de catalogus ‘Horror Vacui | een docudrama in 14 staties’ (verslag van een schandaal verwekkend kunstproject, i.s.m. Jeroen de Leijer) en poëzie in de bundels ‘Mijn onsterfelijke lever’ en ‘¡Mondo Manga!’
Swarth is de voice ‘n’ noise van het guerrilla rock trio Betonfraktion, dat drie platen uitbracht. Het duo Swagemakers Swarth biedt improvisaties voor viool en stem. Janine Ensslin is de ideale gastvrouw voor alle denkbare gelegenheden. Ze draait evenmin haar hand om voor een fijne, eigenzinnige verhandeling op bestelling.
(www.swarth.nl)
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The Eagle
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892)
The Eagle
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Break, Break, Break
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
O, well for the fisherman’s boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!
Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892)
Break, Break, Break
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En önskan
Av hela vår soliga värld
önskar jag blott en trädgårdssoffa
där en katt solar sig…
Där skulle jag sitta
med ett brev i barmen,
ett enda litet brev.
Så ser min dröm ut…
Edith Södergran
(1892-1923)
En önskan
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Abendländisches Lied
O der Seele nächtlicher Flügelschlag:
Hirten gingen wir einst an dämmernden Wäldern hin
Und es folgte das rote Wild, die grüne Blume und der lallende Quell
Demutsvoll. O, der uralte Ton des Heimchens,
Blut blühend am Opferstein
Und der Schrei des einsamen Vogels über der grünen Stille des Teichs.
O, ihr Kreuzzüge und glühenden Martern
Des Fleisches, Fallen purpurner Früchte
Im Abendgarten, wo vor Zeiten die frommen Jünger gegangen,
Kriegsleute nun, erwachend aus Wunden und Sternenträumen.
O, das sanfte Zyanenbündel der Nacht.
O, ihr Zeiten der Stille und goldener Herbste,
Da wir friedliche Mönche die purpurne Traube gekeltert;
Und rings erglänzten Hügel und Wald.
O, ihr Jagden und Schlösser; Ruh des Abends,
Da in seiner Kammer der Mensch Gerechtes sann,
In stummem Gebet um Gottes lebendiges Haupt rang.
O, die bittere Stunde des Untergangs,
Da wir ein steinernes Antlitz in schwarzen Wassern beschaun.
Aber strahlend heben die silbernen Lider die Liebenden:
Ein Geschlecht. Weihrauch strömt von rosigen Kissen
Und der süße Gesang der Auferstandenen.
Georg Trakl
(1887 – 1914)
Abendländisches Lied
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The title poem, “Because I Love You, I Become War,” is a poem of feminist genius, deserving to be in the pantheon of all-time brilliant poems!
Sascha A. Akhtar, author of #LoveLikeBlood
Raw[ness] exudes from this collection of poems and poetics prose about love and war, both corporal and terrestrial. Whether speaking of “rose petals yawning like little girls, like the daughters I never bore,” or a California wildfire’s “yellowed skies” and “smoke taint,” even color is narrative in Eileen Tabios’ dexterous hands.
Eileen R. Tabios has released over 60 collections of poetry, fiction, essays, and experimental biographies from publishers in 11 countries and cyberspace. DOVELION: A FAIRY TALE FOR OUR TIMES (AC Books, 2021) is her first long- form novel. Her 2020 books include a short story collection, PAGPAG: The Dictator’s Aftermath in the Diaspora; a poetry collection, THE IN(TER)VENTION OF THE HAY(NA)KU (Marsh Hawk Press, 2019); and her third bilingual edition (English/Thai), INCULPATORY EVIDENCE: Covid-19 Poems.
Her award-winning body of work includes invention of the hay(na)ku, a 21st century diasporic poetic form, and the MDR Poetry Generator that can create poems totaling theoretical infinity, as well as a first poetry book, Beyond Life Sentences, which received the Philippines’ National Book Award for Poetry. Translated into 11 languages, she also has edited, co-edited or conceptualized 15 anthologies of poetry, fiction and essays. Her writing and editing works have received recognition through awards, grants and residencies.
Because I love you, I become war
Poems & Uncollected Poetics Prose
by Eileen R. Tabios
Pub Date: 5/30/2023
Publisher: Marsh Hawk Press, Inc.
ISBN-10 : 099865826X
ISBN-13 : 978-0998658261
Binding: Paperback
Pages: 332
Price: $ 22.00
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With Child
Now I am slow and placid, fond of sun,
Like a sleek beast, or a worn one:
No slim and languid girl—not glad
With the windy trip I once had,
But velvet-footed, musing of my own,
Torpid, mellow, stupid as a stone.
You cleft me with your beauty’s pulse, and now
Your pulse has taken body. Care not how
The old grace goes, how heavy I am grown,
Big with this loneliness, how you alone
Ponder our love. Touch my feet and feel
How earth tingles, teeming at my heel!
Earth’s urge, not mine,—my little death, not hers;
And the pure beauty yearns and stirs.
It does not heed our ecstacies, it turns
With secrets of its own, its own concerns,
Toward a windy world of its own, toward stark
And solitary places. In the dark,
Defiant even now, it tugs and moans
To be untangled from these mother’s bones.
Genevieve Taggard
(1894 – 1948)
With Child
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A vital reconstruction of Italian Futurist poet Ardengo Soffici’s visual poetics, presented for the first time in English in Olivia E. Sears’s exacting translations. With a foreword by Marjorie Perloff.
With unexpected lyricism, buzzing between the entropic and the erotic, Soffici’s unrelenting poems manifest his milieu’s fascination with the metropolis. Guillaume Apollinaire called it “very important work, rich in fresh beauties.” This facsimile-style edition—with a foreword by Marjorie Perloff, helpful annotations, and an informative afterword by the translator—offers a glimpse into the vibrant early avant-garde, when modernity held tremendous promise.
Ardengo Soffici (1879-1964) was an Italian painter, poet, and art critic associated with Florentine Futurism. Years spent in Parisian artistic circles spurred Soffici to champion an artistic renewal in Italy, introducing French impressionism and cubism and a vibrant magazine culture.
Olivia E. Sears is a translator of Italian poetry and prose, specializing in avant-garde women writers. She founded the Center for the Art of Translation and the journal Two Lines, where she served as editor for twelve years.
Simultaneities and Lyric Chemisms
Ardengo Soffici
Olivia E. Sears (Translator)
Pub Date: 09/15/2022
Publisher: World Poetry Books
Product Number:9781954218055
ISBN978-1-954218-05-5
SKU #: I17G
Binding: Paperback
Pages:120
Poetry.
Translation.
Italian Studies.
Price: 23,99 euro
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Pit Lullabies is Jessica Traynor’s third collection, following Liffey Swim (2014) and The Quick (2019).
These intimate, visceral and often wickedly funny poems journey through the darker days of new parenthood, teasing out the anxieties which plague us when night falls. Violence against women, the destruction of our environment, the poisons and pitfalls of 21st-century living are explored here in poems by turns lyrical and earthy, yearning and angry. They mine gold from the darkness and seek luminescence in the deepest oceans.
Jessica Traynor was born in Dublin in 1984 and is a poet, essayist and librettist. Her debut collection, Liffey Swim (Dedalus Press, 2014), was shortlisted for the Strong/Shine Award and in 2016 was named one of the best poetry debuts of the past five years on Bustle.com. Her second collection, The Quick, was a 2019 Irish Times poetry choice. A Place of Pointed Stones, a pamphlet commissioned by Offaly County Council,was published by The Salvage Press in 2021. Her third collection, Pit Lullabies, was published by Bloodaxe Books in March 2022. It was a Poetry Book Society Recommendation and was an Irish Times poetry books of the year choice for 2022. Pit Lullabies was shortlisted for the inaugural Yeats Society Sligo’s Poetry Prize in 2023.
She has received commissions for poems from BBC Radio 4, The Arts Council of Ireland, The Model Gallery Sligo, The Salvage Press, VISUAL Carlow, Dún Laoghaire–Rathdown County Council and The Poetry Programme (RTÉ), and awards including the Hennessy New Writer of the Year, the Ireland Chair of Poetry Bursary, and the Listowel Poetry Prize. In 2016, she was named one of the ‘Rising Generation’ of poets by Poetry Ireland. She is the recipient of the Lawrence O’Shaughnessy Award for Poetry 2023.
She reviews poetry for The Irish Times, RTÉ Radio 1’s Arena, and for Poetry Ireland Review. She is an inaugural Creative Fellow of UCD, where she completed her MA in Creative Writing in 2008, and has held residencies including the Yeats Society, Sligo, and Carlow College. She was Dún Laoghaire-Rathdown Writer in Residence for 2021-22 and is University of Galway Writer in Residence for 2023. She is poetry editor at Banshee.
Pit Lullabies
(Poems)
by Jessica Traynor
Publisher: Bloodaxe Books
2022
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1780376065
ISBN-13: 978-1780376066
Paperback
96 pages
£10.99
Shortlisted for the Yeats Society Sligo’s Poetry Prize 2023
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The Vast Hour
All essences of sweetness from the white
Warm day go up in vapor, when the dark
Comes down. Ascends the tune of meadow-lark,
Ascends the noon-time smell of grass, when night
Takes sunlight from the world, and gives it ease.
Mysterious wings have brushed the air; and light
Float all the ghosts of sense and sound and sight;
The silent hive is echoing the bees.
So stir my thoughts at this slow, solemn time.
Now only is there certainty for me
When all the day’s distilled and understood.
Now light meets darkness: now my tendrils climb
In this vast hour, up the living tree,
Where gloom foregathers, and the stern winds brood.
Genevieve Taggard
(1894 – 1948)
The Vast Hour
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Skull Song
A sea-god, whose father had been a mortal, becomes a skeleton.
The skin of the sea was thick, to-night,
And the tone of the sea was dull;
When I found by the edge of the sullen sea
The half of a sea-god’s skull.
Half of a sea-god’s skull was there,
Half of a sea-god’s tail.
When I dug them out of the clutch of the sand
The peering moon went pale.
The peering moon went pale, because
Her other eye had seen
The other half of the sea-god’s bones
Ten thousand fathom green . . .
Ten thousand fathom green with sea,
The sea-god’s other bones
Swayed in a dead sea-goddess’s arms
On a pile of sea-washed stones.
The skin of the sea was thick, to-night,
And the tone of the sea was dull,
While I buried away from the sinister sea
All the mortal part of a skull.
Genevieve Taggard
(1894 – 1948)
Skull Song
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Skönhet
Vad är skönhet? Fråga alla själar –
skönhet är varje överflöd, varje glöd, varje överfyllnad och varje stort armod;
skönhet är att vara sommaren trogen och naken intill hösten;
skönhet är papegojans fjäderskrud eller solnedgången som bebådar storm;
skönhet är ett skarpt drag och ett eget tonfall: det är jag,
skönhet är en stor förlust och ett tigande sorgetåg,
skönhet är solfjäderns lätta slag som väcker ödets fläkt;
skönhet är att vara vällustig som rosen eller att förlåta allting för att solen skiner;
skönhet är korset munken valt eller pärlbandet damen får av sin älskare,
skönhet är icke den tunna såsen i vilken diktare servera sig själva,
skönhet är att föra krig och söka lycka,
skönhet är att tjäna högre makter.
Edith Södergran
(1892-1923)
Skönhet
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