Veering here toward the end of the introduction to a decade of translation, a commitment happily nowhere near finita, finished, at least in the slangy figurative sense. Sporadic flights between bio-bibliographical tinkerings back to Impromptu, Amelia Rosselli’s final flood of a poemetto, composed in the dark period following the “delitto Moro” committed by the Red [...]
This morning (a week ago) I am exchanging messages with poet/critic/translator Marco Giovenale in Rome regarding the neologism “tralappio,” which appears in the opening lines of Amelia Rosselli’s 1979 poemetto called Impromptu—famously written in a sitting, just like Bernadette Mayer’s Midwinter Day. I thought that I might manage to pass over this challenge in silence [...]
On eating replaced by discourse replaced by silence in the monument, dug.
On the elimination of the I and thou in poetry, as sought out by Amelia Rosselli.