DIE PROZESSE — Ein faktographisches Poem

ENGLISH TRANSLATION (part 1) BY DAVID VICHNAR & TIM KÖNIG ALIENIST 5   “Mehr als 1000 Menschen wurden bereits willkürlich verurteilt und inhaftiert. Und jetzt soll das neue so genannte “Anti-Randalierer- Gesetz” uns auch noch darin hindern zu demonstrieren. Wir verurteilen jede Gewalt gegen Demonstranten durch die Polizei. Nichts wird uns aufhalten! Demonstrieren ist ein Grundrecht. Schluss mit der Straflosigkeit für die Ordnungskräfte! Amnestie für alle Opfer der Unterdrückung!” Aufruf der ersten Generalversammlung der Gilets Jaunes “Ich werde ein Arbeiter sein: Diese Idee hält mich zurück, wenn die wahnsinnige Wut mich hin zur Schlacht von Paris drängt, — wo doch…

riots and/or poetics [10/2018]

“History is full of people who just didn’t. They said no thank you, turned away, escaped to the desert, lived in barrels, burned down their own houses, killed their rapists, pushed away dinner, meditated into the light. Even babies refuse, and the elderly also. Animals refuse: at the zoo they gaze through Plexiglas, fling feces at human faces. Classes refuse. The poor throw their lives onto barricades, and workers slow the line. Enslaved people have always refused, poisoning the feasts and aborting the embryos, and the diligent, flamboyant jaywalkers assert themselves against traffic as the first and foremost visible daily lesson…

Two Poets — Pier Paolo Pasolini & John Wieners

“I harbor a visceral, deep, irreducible, hatred against the bourgeoisie, against its sufficiency, its vulgarity; a mythical hatred, or, if you prefer, religious.” Pier Paolo Pasolini
“Do not think of the future; there is none. / But the formula all great art is made of.“ J. Wieners

Kirill Medvedev; My Fascism

“MY FASCISM is an essay about the relation of politics and art in 2004 in Russia, how some artists on the far right had made a powerfully vital, syncretic, and dangerous art. Kirill argues against attachment to an idealized past, the old culture: In Russia right now we’re all frankensteins, pieced together from various dead traditions. The maximum that we have, right now is air.” STEPHANIE YOUNG; IT’S NO GOOD EVERYTHING’S BAD (DOUBLECROSS PRESS)   KIRILL MEDVEDEV; IT’S NO GOOD TRANSLATED BY KEITH GESSEN WITH MARK KROTOV, CORY MERRILL AND BELA SHAYEVICH FITZCARRALDO EDITIONS

Amelia Rosselli; Poetry and Poetics

  Poetry and Poetics Uncollected   Because I never did die, sepia and self with others was jocund smashed in equal pieces. I write obscure, blissful fog and without sun the sky, floured with wearinesses the monotonies of living by jolts acute and low. 11 March 1995     Note 1967-1968   1/1/67 Intent upon describing the landscape I intruded; gushed from it restless the primary scene: spinning tops, caverns, demystifying scenes. It’s a scene this one that keeps me from thinking while with a machine gun I elegantly mow you all down. What a corvée of madmen! What an…

The Selected Poetry of Pier Paolo Pasolini

The Selected Poetry of Pier Paolo Pasolini (PDF) A BILINGUAL EDITION Edited and Translated by Stephen Sartarelli With a Foreword by James Ivory   “Most people outside Italy know Pier Paolo Pasolini for his films, many of which began as literary works—Arabian Nights, The Gospel According to Matthew, The Decameron, and The Canterbury Talesamong them. What most people are not aware of is that he was primarily a poet, publishing nineteen books of poems during his lifetime, as well as a visual artist, novelist, playwright, and journalist. Half a dozen of these books have been excerpted and published in English…

Katerina Gogou / AUTOPSY REPORT

  AUTOPSY REPORT 2.11.75 …the body lay face-down in a parallel connecting to the Vatican. One of his hands full of blood gestured in open palm as insult to CPI and the other clutching his genitals to the culture specialists. Blood clotting on his hair as leeches on the veiled homosexual syndromes of all men of earth throughout the realm. His face disfigured by the framework of the class he denied a black and blue volunteer of the ragtag proletariat. The fingers of the left hand broken by social realism thrown away to floodlit trash. The jaw broken by the…