Interview |
“Making the Unseen Visible: A Conversation With Kelsi Vanada”
‘I feel more keenly the sense of speaking in someone else’s voice when I’m reading my translation of Andrea’s nonfiction — maybe the difference is that when translating poetry, I’m able to speak with someone else’s voice.”
Poetry |
“Sabbatical,” “Genealogy” & “Allegory”
“I knew I’d go missing if I lugged my life / around the corsos of Mezzegra / but I got lucky, stumbling on a celebration: / the anniversary of Mussolini’s hanging.”
Lyric Prose |
on “Poems Not Written” — a recurring feature On The Seawall
“I used to tell my creative writing students when they got stuck to write absolutely anything at all for seven minutes.”
Poetry |
“Nourish,” “Old Lady Smell” & “January 6, 2022”
“My mother made me promise / to tell her if she ever started to smell / like an old lady. My fastidious mother — / who dusted every Saturday / who never left a dish in the sink overnight …”
Literature in Translation |
from Blood Red
“Thinking about my husband kept making me heave; sweet, soft retches. I managed the bouts of nausea with lemon rind or by peeling the skin from my lips. It took us time, orphaned little souls that we were, to leave one other.”
Lyric Prose |
“My Mom’s Knitting Bag is Still Filled With Her Last Projects,” “Last Night I Saw Mom at a Party” & “Aren’t Healthy People Unaware of Their Heartbeats?”
“No past nor future was mentioned, only the clicking of needles or scissors’ snips were heard. At times silence was broken by the difficulties in finding a certain silk thread in a matching color.”
Literature in Translation |
“Village,” “Poems,” “Birds,” “Deer,” “Explanation,” “Countryside,” “Zapatoca,” & “Tree”
“The light / of words // with which / we look at / light.”
Literature in Translation |
“After the Storm,””Daily Routine” & “At night you sweep …”
“Everything is so perfectly clear, there are no more secrets, the birds settle in their place and the nights find shelter beneath the deserts. Out of your eye, a small stone softly rolls.”
Poetry |
“Lost Rakusu,” “Episodes From a Crisis (2015)” & “Leading a Tired Horse Into the Years”
“I’m helping her fill out a form, when a nurse hears my breathing. / Suddenly I’m on a gurney, rushing off at full speed. / I’m no longer responsible; I’m the center of many faces. / A pinprick; then, lights out.”
Poetry |
“The Plum The Plum” & “The Cup”
“She held (very carefully) a plum in her memory. She held it / in her mind in her hand. She carried the plum and its pit its / impermanence and stroked the cleft / of its breast …”
Literature in Translation |
from Night
“I search for truth in the books discarded in the square, in the dreams of sleeping cats and the intelligent gaze of dogs that roam through the gardens of Congress.”
Poetry |
“Living Room” and “Art”
“With brave reserve, the painter regards a floor lamp, a plum, / and a pool stick and reacts. The painting comes out in // flamboyant, fearful drag.”
Poetry |
“The Glass Parrot” and “Elegy in Susan’s Garden”
“I have never understood the way stars burst / apart. I am deaf to wind and trees, / to the rose bush we planted.”
Literature in Translation |
“To calm the ill that assails,” “We were among those called,” “A semantic error hides” & “The space of my body is this”
“We were among those called / against nature. Our existence / toppled and twisted the laws / of creation. But how could we, / luxuriant in our adolescent bodies, / be a waste, an untenable defect?”
Essay |
“The Guitar Lesson”
“I am sixteen. I have recently been kissed by my guitar teacher, a man of nearly thirty years, but I have been numb to that and to everything else since my father’s brain embolism propelled him into the hospital a week and a half ago.”