One afternoon in northern Europe, probably in the year 1939, a boychild one now sees wearing a blue velvet Little Lord Fauntleroy suit with lace collar and cuffs, is walking down a chiaroscuro corridor in a haut-bourgeois six-story apartment building —
What Dadaists are still alive are dealing with their life-movies in various ways, suggested by other labels:
Cover of the Lithuanian edition of Khurbn by Algimantas Černiauskas
[The following continues an interview and conversation with Javier Taboada in El Libro de las Voces, just published in Mexico by Mangos de Hacha. The publication of course is in Spanish and includes a selection of poems and essays along with the extensive series of interviews. Still in my possession and unpublished is the entire book in English, from which the following excerpt is taken. (j.r.)]
With regard to the teaching and promotion of the ancient Mediterranean “classics,” as reported recently in the New York Times and elsewhere, I’m reminded of the following — partly tongue-in-cheek and partly serious — which I published first in Shaking the Pumpkin (1972) and that Javier Taboada and I are including again in our new hemispheric and omnipoetic anthology of the Americas “from origins to present.” The premise behind it, however, is far
Poems and poetics