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Tilsa Otta
Translated from the Spanish by Honora Spicer
A nightclub doesn't make a summer
But I believe in perreo
Eternal recreation
In the agitation of the critical mass
Bending before itself
Who hasn't dreamed of the reason?
What good
What good books you've got
Never forget
That porn pages are insecure
They activate memories of other lives
And then you can't close them
Never forget us
We transmit the virus of the international language of love
Pagan gods
Gave us life but we want more
I have three X chromosomes but I want +
+++
I want to be the hormone of darkness
I want to see
Who can open their mouth wider
Who has the longer tongue
More police disarmed and reassembled
Who put an orifice where there was a law
A cock where there was a whistle
Hysterical holding up traffic
The stoplights blush so red
The windows to the street aren't working
Our bodies
Leak and we dance
In an ethereopatriarchal position i.e.
Hardly metaphysically present and the clouds
So occupied, rain and how they come
Over the sewers with a critical baby pout on citrus
Assassins on shift around the world
They spared our lives but we want more
I have three wishes but I want +
All the genius
All the desire
I want to be the hormone of your growth
Rescue our friends
Let's bed up to recover dreams
The world won't let up observing us
The editor will cover the intimate parts
With black holes
Never forget
That we're the fill of the same stuffed god
Kids hug when they're afraid
Luckily there are all kinds of folx
Imaginary Friends and real friends
Folx who believe in you and that's why we're possible
Never forget
There are planets in other lives

La Hormona De La Oscuridad

Un club nocturno no hace un verano
Mas creo en el perreo
Eterno recreo
En la agitación de la masa crítica
Inclínandose ante sí misma
¿Quién no ha soñado con la razón?
Qué bueno
Qué buenos libros tienes
Nunca olvides
Que las páginas porno son inseguras
Activan recuerdos de otras vidas
Y luego no puedes cerrarlas
Nunca nos olvides
Transmitimos el virus del lenguaje internacional del amor
Dioses paganos
Nos dieron la vida pero queremos más
Tengo tres crosomas X pero quiero +
+++
Quiero ser la hormona de la oscuridad
Quiero ver
Quién puede abrir más la boca
Quién tiene la lengua más larga
Más policías desarmados y vueltos armar
Quién puso un orificio donde había una ley
Un pito donde había un silbato
Histérico deteniendo el tráfico
Los semáforos se ponen rojísimos
Las ventanas a la calle no están funcionando
Nuestros cuerpos
Tienen goteras y bailamos
En una posición etériopatriarcal es decir
Apenas metafísciamente presentas y las nubes
Muy ocupadas llueven y cómo se vienen
Sobre las alcantarillas con el mohín crítico de bebé en cítricos
Asesinos de turno de todo el mundo
Nos perdonaron la vida pero queremos más
Tengo tres deseos pero quiero +
Todo el genio
Todo el deseo
Quiero ser la hormona de tu crecimiento
Salvar a los compañeros
Vamos a la cama a recuperar sueños
El mundo no deja de observarnos
El editor cubrirá las partes íntimas
Con agujeros negros
Nunca olvides
Que somos relleno del mismo dios de peluche
Que abrazan lxs niñxs cuando tienen miedo
Por suerte hay todo tipo de gente
Amigos imaginarios y amigos de verdad
Gente que cree un unx y por eso somos posibles
Nunca olvides
Que hay planetas en otras vidas
from the book AND SUDDENLY I WAS JUST DANCING / Cardboard House Press
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Jennifer Chang Interviews Peter Gizzi

"All real art makes us reconsider traditionnot as a fixed canonical body that exists behind us or bears us up, but as something we move toward. We find it reading back through those very works that were ahead of their own time, even their authorsin the poems of Emily Dickinson or William Carlos Williams, Jack Spicer or Barbara Guest, for instance. If this model of discovery teaches us anything, it’s that tradition is, in fact, always just ahead of us, it is always an act of discovery, an occasion we rise to."

via NEW ENGLAND REVIEW
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"Dot and I were sleeping on the floor. Yumi was in the other room. It was raining and windy. We hung a furin, a Japanese wind bell, above our front porch, and it was ringing loudly, sweetly. It kept me awake, in a good way. I was content to just listen, then lines of poetry, unremarkable but quietly unrelenting, came to mind."
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