after Raymond Queneau
The Paris we find to traipse
Is not the one we used to find
And we’re not wild to get to
The Paris we will leave behind
– Jacques Roubaud
well, it seems like i am going to have to put Herencia down for a minute. much as i try, i cant get into the flow of this anthology since it uses a lot of prose excerpts. i am dead set to finish it though but, for now, its goin to the curb.
which brings us to m. roubaud’s poetic collection The Form of a City Changes Faster, alas, than the Human Heart. yesterday was the second time i picked this volume up and this time i couldnt put it down. since it is–
partly calling to my obsession with city
partly calling to my desire to leave my safe regions of latino-american poetry
partly making me deal with more issues on translations (come back to this blog soon for a basque poem. teaser!)
definitely calling to my love for long titles.
more to come when i finish.