Beiträge
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Ma langue est poétique. It is poetic in its unrolling and its pieces and in the wake of its pieces, it is not composed of words attached to words by accident, by suffering, by stapling cor- ners and catch-lines and straps and frictions and stuck- together strings meticulously glued to each other to make…
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In one of her most fascinating poems, AUTOPSY REPORT 2.11.75, from the volume The Wooden Overcoat (1982), Katerina Gogou revisits the day when the Italian poet Pier Paolo Pasolini (he was certainly more than an ally to her) was found murdered on the beach at Ostia. In the blind spot of a surveillance camera —…
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Lyn Hejinian | From ‚Positions of the Sun‘
The book pivots around the disorientation of the „aesthetics of minutiae, with their promise of infinitude“; a pointed and inconclusive protest against an „awareness of…
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Katerina Gogou | AND THAT’S HOW I’LL GO AWAY
I walk. I walk. I walk. With the pockets on my wooden overcoat all stitched-up. I walk repeatedly. Repeatedly I walk. I carry nothing.…



