That last one was my 100th post. It felt like something of a milestone, and maybe left everyone needing a deep breath or two. I did, anyway, hence the radio silence. Also I’ve been busy as hell. I found out recently that my good friend Jess and I have been appointed the new editors of Going Down Swinging, as of our respective returns from travelling later this year. GDS has been around for 30 years, and is one of the most durable and respected literary journals in the country. It’s also the only journal that routinely publishes spoken word CDs as well as a print anthology. So being entrusted with it is a genuine privilege. Let’s wait and see what we can deliver.
The upshot of this was that we then immediately had to write an epic funding application, between me in Argentina, her in California, and current editor Lisa Greenaway in Melbourne. The internet is amazing and I want Google’s babies. Also my fortnight of no sleep and heavy drinking caught up with me as I spent most of that week shivering over the computer with a spectacular fever that made my bones shake. Then a manuscript came in that I had to edit. So all up the last fortnight hasn’t left much time for writing. I’m still behind in my adventures, but I’ll catch you up as soon as I can.
In the meantime, my friend Hopper’s Crossing pointed me toward an amazing Lorca poem, which I retranslated to polish it up a bit, and which is too pretty not to share. Enjoy.
Gacela of Unforeseen Love
No-one understood the perfume
of the hidden magnolia of your belly.
No-one knew that you tortured
a hummingbird of love between your teeth.
A thousand little Persian horses fell asleep
in the plaza with the moon of your forehead,
while for four nights I tied myself
to your waist, enemy of the snow.
Between plaster and jasmine, your glance
was a pale branch of seeds.
I searched within my chest to give you
the ivory letters that say always.
Always, always; garden of my agony,
your body fugitive always,
the blood of your veins in my mouth,
your mouth already lightless for my death.