A poem by Slim Socarrat

translation by Estíbaliz Espinosa

Salchicha de porco bravo, ou a Charla-logo-de do Androide

Onte á noite eras
deliciosa ensalada
de verdura tenra.

Esta mañá es unha salchicha de porco bravo.

Súas e cuspes
na miña man de ferro.
 
Retórzome e rosmo
no teu puño de proteína.

translation of a poem by Manuel Pereira Valcárcel

shadow dogs bark
in nostalgic haystacks.
somnabulist nights,
ancestral photos,
crucifixes that preside
over bedrooms,
wardrobes of camphor and longing.
the house is alone.
Death waits in the rafters.

Mario Santiago Papasquiaro: Espada de ardor / en el cogote

This poem, published recently in The Bitter Oleander with a translation by Laura Burns, is fun to read.

Here is an audio file of me reading it, but sped up because I didn't like the sound of my voice.

Audio Here.

A translation: "Acaroábanse caóticas as cunchas" by Isaac Xubín

A chaotic convention of shells



The horse and I
lie upon the Boireann,
exhausted,
hiding from words,
licking the thick night mist
from the stones broken by our hips,
by our thighs.
Then, a chaotic convention,
a frenzied convocation of shells,
the broken bodies of mollusks bathed by the waves,
and a vision of nacre in my eyes that carries to my glands
the smells,
the taste of the sea;
lying with aching loins beneath the lemon tree,
the pleasure of eating till my body becomes
no match for its own desires, the tip of the tongue
seeking the last salty flashes
that rise from the tautness of our skin, and other treasures
like horsehair and a wild musky smell
that reminds me
of the feeling of impunity that used to take hold of me
when I snuck out of the house at night.

Because perhaps this journey
was nothing more than an ancient barb
etched in my genetic code,
an ancestral rite that grabbed me from the inside and made me want
to feel this land’s saliva
rising through me every night,
to feel in my roiling fevered groin the fresh sweat
of our bodies’
animal
combustion.

[translated from Galician.]


[info about the author here]

Bike ride, September 28

Field strewn with glass.

Where's the trail?

Steel carcasses.

Plastic bags brought in by high water.

Detail of trail composition.

I guess I can't get across that way.

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Trip to the museum

A bear, historical photos and maps of the Texas Technological College and environs, an NC Wyeth, and some vampiricide. A successful Saturday!