From within Varela’s rough text, Lara extracts unexpected threads of forms, unarticulated rhythms and figures of speech that keep the metaphors together and yet, by the same token, undermine and fulfill Varela’s austere treatment.

El arte modernista para Trotsky no podía ser considerado como una nueva cultura sino más bien como una expresión de la tarea y demanda de trascender la sociedad y cultura burguesas.

The wish to avoid the difficulties of attempting to reproduce Valéry’s own rhyme and scansion is understandable, but replacing them with another set of procedural impositions doesn’t necessarily allow the translation to do justice to the original.

Every word of this book is Angel, ἄγγελος, the potently vitaminal vessel through which eternity manifests as dilatory consciousness in this world.

“If there has ever been a present to work in spite of, it is ours, but how different was that of the late nineteenth century? Or rather, is there a present? No such thing, thought Mallarmé — just a gap that the news tries to paper over.“

In a new twist on the Anvil and Rose column, Inspector Watt reviews the reviews of Dwight Garner.

Herman Van den Reeck reviews books of poetry by Kerrin Mccadden, Deborah Paredez and Richard Blanco, and anthologies of Affrilachian and Conceptual poetry.

“I do want to be aware of those tensions (between academy and creativity, between ‘translation’ and ‘adaptation’), and find a way to play off them without being tortured or paralyzed by them or pulled too far in one direction or the other.”

What does it mean to identify with these characters? To find their struggles the same as my own?

Equal parts Star Wars, On the Road, Deleuzean war machine, and surrealist delirium, this poem-ever-in-progress is literature on steroids, philosophy on acid. It is scandalous, funny, erudite, and endlessly generative. It is an epic without organs.

Gay and lesbian artists would be best served by curators and gallery-goers taking their work seriously as art, and rejecting the sexualized promotional copy which today passes for queer aesthetics.

n+1 Editor Marco Roth responds to Caesura’s Issue 0 prompt.

Kelly, I say, has been islanding, becoming island, all sea, breeze, epos now, all crossroads, it bringing the news, that is poetry.

The spirit riding through the house of human memory. A taste of heavenliness still melancholy with lived sufferings. The hell of the present through which heaven is found — the finding of which is a middle-ground, and the site of personal, heretical, intense theology.

Evan Kennedy’s new book might be called a long prose-poem, but not liking that term, I think it better to say that it is merely (which is to say “purely, nakedly”) a Poem.

Inspector Watt delivers five flash reviews of books of poetry by Lyn Hejinian, Deborah Landau, Sabrina Orah Mark, Melissa Monroe, and Sarah Ruhl.

In this 5th installment of the biweekly Anvil and Rose, Hermann Van den Reeck returns with flash reviews of books by Patrick Greany and Sabine Zelger; Melissa Lozada-Oliva; Nancy Lee; Jessica Q. Stark; and Rachel Blau DuPlessis.

Los años de Trump están acabados. Allison Hewitt Ward analiza el arte producido durante estos años.

Michel Leiris’s 1929 essay on the sculptor Alberto Giacometti, translated by Rainer Hanshe.

Frédéric sees the desk where his mother, now passed, did her business, shoved unopened mail, searched for a pen, locked away in a glass case. “Doesn't it seem caged?”