By Xime de Coster. Translated by Cherilyn Elston, Claire Parsons and Laura Cann. The letters didn’t warn me that the hand of god would come in the form of a wall to crash into my face, bleeding heavily until I realized that it doesn’t pay to be a poet, in any shape or form. […]
By Xime de Coster. Translated by Cherilyn Elston, Claire Parsons and Laura Cann. “What is silence? The crowd gave a solitary howl in the room of niches” Yván Silén You have written and they have not gouged your eyes out? they have not amputated your legs they have not forgotten you, far away, in […]
By Xime de Coster. Translated by Cherilyn Elston, Claire Parsons and Laura Cann. To relieve the pain, I went for a walk in the neighbourhood, looking for some fucking graffiti to take pictures and I didn’t find not even a single beautiful bit spat on the wall. It’s not the neighbourhood’s fault the fault […]
By Xime de Coster. Translated by Cherilyn Elston, Claire Parsons Dominguez and Laura Cann. Sleepwalking poetry to succumb to and the mind to rest. A phrase, a solstice, a breeze, an open space, a mist, a microchip placed in the hand that warns the next with a user’s handbook as imperfect as it is misguided. […]