Corrupt press puts poetry into heads.
It’s a limited company run by me, Dylan Harris. When I came to Paris in December 2009, I found many interesting anglophone poets, a lively scene, magazines, but no small press. Worse, some British, Irish and American poetry presses seemed unwilling to publish poets from their abroad. In consequence, good poets weren’t getting published. So, in 2011, I set the press up.
Non-anglophone English can be an interesting source of new language. The poetry may sometimes seem odd to native speakers, but is it error, a style that’s not yet established, a diﬀerent grammar, an eﬀect a native speaker would struggle to achieve, or what ? That’s why I want poetry from poets whose mother tongues exclude English.
The contact address is firstname.lastname@example.org.
eindhoven The NETHERLANDS
1er juin 2012
WHILE REREADING LATTIMORE’S ILIAD MANY YEARS LATER (VARIATIONS)
Wheeze, oh Muse, and clatter me the ditty
on an awry hero tantrum. Cough.
Song dame, won’t you clever me a stanza
epic highly ? hence me that way,
long lyre lady, so I shall could warble
hot good copy and, curved poet, distress
alas, whole kinds of bad murder
on Acheans which, on result of
that angerly feel which was toward pointed
Agamemnon at by vast Achilles,
would be sending at their (…)
Is it for now or for always
The world hangs on a stalk ?
Is it a trick or a trysting-place,
The woods we have found to walk ?
Is it a mirage or a miracle,
Your lips that lift at mine :
And the suns like juggler’s juggling-balls,
Are they a sham or a sign ?
Shine out, my sudden angel,
Break fear with breast and brow,
I take you now and for always,
For always is always now.