Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Luisa Futoransky

REVIEW

I come from another place, another body, another gulf
to be understood
but not too much
through shortcuts and digressions
I write
Bare handed. Cross country.

I live in periphrases, spirals, seeking forgiveness, permission.
Too much.
I stumble, sing out of tune, repeat myself
add protheses, hunch over,
misfit, meticulous, sloppy
swiping aside, gasping
with footnotes that're
unverifiable. 



Rootless like the trunk of a plane tree
at the mercy of the squalls, pure cavity, pure fragility
incapable of putting down roots, but I carry on
inserting myself into the frame, out of focus,
through a concave or convex lens
never that of the rainbow never that of love requited except furtively.

The lowest common denominator of pain is universal
and its square root is this nut, this ruby
that still illuminates, with arrogance, secrecy, albeit irately
the palm of my hand.

Reseña

Reseña

Soy de otra parte, otro cuerpo, otro golfo
que me entiendan

para que no me entiendan demasiado

por atajos y digresiones

escribo.

A mano limpia. A campo traviesa.

Vivo por circunloquios, espirales, pidiendo disculpas, permiso. 

Demasiado.

Tropiezo, desentono, me repito,

adiciono prótesis, me encorvo,

heteróclita, minuciosa, descuidada

descartando a manotazos, boqueando

con notas a pie de página

inverificables.

Desenraizada como tronco de plátano

a merced de la borrasca, puro cráter, pura fragilidad

sin saber echar raíces pero voy

poniéndome en escena, fuera de foco,

por lente cóncavo o convexo
nunca el del arcoiris
nunca el del amor correspondido menos furtivo.


El mínimo denominador común del dolor es universal

y su raíz cuadrada esta nuez, este rubí,

que aún alumbra, soberbio, secreto, aunque airado

la palma de mi mano.
Close

REVIEW

I come from another place, another body, another gulf
to be understood
but not too much
through shortcuts and digressions
I write
Bare handed. Cross country.

I live in periphrases, spirals, seeking forgiveness, permission.
Too much.
I stumble, sing out of tune, repeat myself
add protheses, hunch over,
misfit, meticulous, sloppy
swiping aside, gasping
with footnotes that're
unverifiable. 



Rootless like the trunk of a plane tree
at the mercy of the squalls, pure cavity, pure fragility
incapable of putting down roots, but I carry on
inserting myself into the frame, out of focus,
through a concave or convex lens
never that of the rainbow never that of love requited except furtively.

The lowest common denominator of pain is universal
and its square root is this nut, this ruby
that still illuminates, with arrogance, secrecy, albeit irately
the palm of my hand.

REVIEW

I come from another place, another body, another gulf
to be understood
but not too much
through shortcuts and digressions
I write
Bare handed. Cross country.

I live in periphrases, spirals, seeking forgiveness, permission.
Too much.
I stumble, sing out of tune, repeat myself
add protheses, hunch over,
misfit, meticulous, sloppy
swiping aside, gasping
with footnotes that're
unverifiable. 



Rootless like the trunk of a plane tree
at the mercy of the squalls, pure cavity, pure fragility
incapable of putting down roots, but I carry on
inserting myself into the frame, out of focus,
through a concave or convex lens
never that of the rainbow never that of love requited except furtively.

The lowest common denominator of pain is universal
and its square root is this nut, this ruby
that still illuminates, with arrogance, secrecy, albeit irately
the palm of my hand.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère