Paris
after Raymond QueneauThe 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.