***

Jazz Szu-Ying Chen (b. 1990) is a Taiwanese artist currently residing in Rotterdam, the Netherlands and formerly in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. Jazz’ art career debut was in 2007, with a solo exhibition named “Karnival” in the Sincewell Gallery (Kaohsiung, Taiwan). Since then, Jazz has been consistently exhibiting in both Taiwan and the United Kingdom every year, with a recent live drawing event in the Netherlands. Her most recent solo show was with Yiri Arts in Kaohsiung, Taiwan.  One of her latest collaborative projects is with Houndstooth, London’s Fabric Club’s record label, on their 2018 compilation “In Death’s Dream Kingdom.

***

Jazz Szu-Ying Chen (b. 1990) is a Taiwanese artist currently residing in Rotterdam, the Netherlands and formerly in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. Jazz’ art career debut was in 2007, with a solo exhibition named “Karnival” in the Sincewell Gallery (Kaohsiung, Taiwan). Since then, Jazz has been consistently exhibiting in both Taiwan and the United Kingdom every year, with a recent live drawing event in the Netherlands. Her most recent solo show was with Yiri Arts in Kaohsiung, Taiwan.  One of her latest collaborative projects is with Houndstooth, London’s Fabric Club’s record label, on their 2018 compilation “In Death’s Dream Kingdom.

***

Jazz Szu-Ying Chen (b. 1990) is a Taiwanese artist currently residing in Rotterdam, the Netherlands and formerly in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. Jazz’ art career debut was in 2007, with a solo exhibition named “Karnival” in the Sincewell Gallery (Kaohsiung, Taiwan). Since then, Jazz has been consistently exhibiting in both Taiwan and the United Kingdom every year, with a recent live drawing event in the Netherlands. Her most recent solo show was with Yiri Arts in Kaohsiung, Taiwan.  One of her latest collaborative projects is with Houndstooth, London’s Fabric Club’s record label, on their 2018 compilation “In Death’s Dream Kingdom.

***

Jazz Szu-Ying Chen (b. 1990) is a Taiwanese artist currently residing in Rotterdam, the Netherlands and formerly in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. Jazz’ art career debut was in 2007, with a solo exhibition named “Karnival” in the Sincewell Gallery (Kaohsiung, Taiwan). Since then, Jazz has been consistently exhibiting in both Taiwan and the United Kingdom every year, with a recent live drawing event in the Netherlands. Her most recent solo show was with Yiri Arts in Kaohsiung, Taiwan.  One of her latest collaborative projects is with Houndstooth, London’s Fabric Club’s record label, on their 2018 compilation “In Death’s Dream Kingdom.

***

Jazz Szu-Ying Chen (b. 1990) is a Taiwanese artist currently residing in Rotterdam, the Netherlands and formerly in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. Jazz’ art career debut was in 2007, with a solo exhibition named “Karnival” in the Sincewell Gallery (Kaohsiung, Taiwan). Since then, Jazz has been consistently exhibiting in both Taiwan and the United Kingdom every year, with a recent live drawing event in the Netherlands. Her most recent solo show was with Yiri Arts in Kaohsiung, Taiwan.  One of her latest collaborative projects is with Houndstooth, London’s Fabric Club’s record label, on their 2018 compilation “In Death’s Dream Kingdom.

He puts on a Mingus live album

And weighs in on poster art printed matter and the Black Mountain School

Men create obsessively because of reproductive lack he says

You don’t wanna get pigeonholed in one medium

The tattoo on his sleeve reads all truth/all lies

Homage to a good cinematic event

He moves fast from one thing to the next and you can’t tell if it’s this spread
out disciplinary approach he wants eyes on or the last line from his one act
play he now opens in front of you unconvinced he has enough for the ending

You want him to slow down

Be one of the dark skinny street style boys who just doesn’t care

But the boy really wants to know what you think of his writing and now he reclines and crosses his feet

It is crushingly beautiful when he does that

***

On this occasion

I shore up

what good I have

to transmit you

and the masculinity necessary

to unbutton your chest.

No, never danced

a wall or swayed

your hips but do it

for me.

Yes, you’re my man

with your head on my lap

with the cold air on your nipples

with your mouth open.

Desire embarrasses us.

Diving down for sea grass

I say trying to explain

how it feels in the face

of a startling thing;

How when you come up for air

and wave

the clump in your hand

at the surface,

you’re both triumphant

and scared.

***

Matea Kulić‘s work (including poetry, essays and reviews) has been published in Poetry is Dead, Room, Demeter Press and The Capilano Review among others. She lives in Vancouver, BC on unceded Coast Salish Territories.

È bello ridere così, del nulla, e poi riprendere il cammino lungo uno scoglio più acuminato e solo, sul profilo di un universo che è fatto d’ombra, sfiorando braccia che sono di papavero, occhi dolci come cenere umida, dopo le braci e la pioggia. Dopo le braci del mondo incontrare il mondo, candido e netto scritto con le lettere del cielo. Il cielo è una lettera bianca la terra, la caduta del tempo, la dolce rapina infinita, una carezza che graffia la pagina rossa dei nostri toraci nudi.

Cammina con libri legàti con lacci di cuoio ai polpacci.

Raggiunge una terra che non ha nessun nome.

Incontra uomini appena riavuti dal pianto.

Bello è ridere, così, del nulla, sotto il manto del papavero, sotto la pioggia invisibile del polline umano, sotto lo sguardo mite di un impiegato alla fermata del tram, con le braccia tatuate.

Ha scritto sui bracci tutti i nomi dei figli e si sa che ha scalato i ripidi mari. Li

ha scalati come la formica scavalca un mucchio di pietre.

It’s nice to laugh like this, at nothing, then go back to walking along a steeper, lonelier cliff, along the edge of a universe made of shadow, brushing against arms made of poppies, eyes soft as humid ash, after the embers and the rain. After the embers of the world: to face the world, clear and candid, writ in letters made of sky. The sky is a white letter, the earth, the collapse of time, the sweet and infinite plundering, a caress that claws the red page of our bare chests.

He walks with books tied to his calves by leather straps.

He enters a nameless land.

He meets with men who’ve just regained themselves from crying.

Nice to laugh, like this, at nothing, under a cloak of poppies, under the invisible rain of human pollen, under the tranquil gaze of an employee at the tram stop, with tattooed arms.

On his arms he’s written the names of all his children, and it’s clear to all he’s scaled the towering seas. Scaled them as an ant goes up a pile of rocks.

***

Poet:  Lorenzo Carlucci (1976, Rome) is featured in the twelfth edition of the Quaderno di poesia contemporanea italiana (Marcos y Marcos, 2015; Notebook of Contemporary Italian Poetry), a biennial series edited by Franco Buffoni. He has published two poetry collections, La comunità assoluta (Lampi di Stampa, 2008) and Ciclo di Giuda e altre poesie (L’Arcolaio, 2008), and his third collection, Sono qui solo a scriverti e non so chi tu sia, is forthcoming from Camera Verde press. Carlucci holds a Ph.D. in mathematics from the University of Siena, a Ph.D. in computer science from the University of Delaware, and is a professor of mathematical logic at the University of Rome “La Sapienza.”

Translator:  Todd Portnowitz is the author of two translations, Midnight in Spoleto by Paolo Valesio (Fomite, 2017) and Long Live Latin by Nicola Gardini (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2018), and the recipient of a Raiziss/de Palchi Fellowship from the Academy of American Poets. A co-founder of the Italian poetry blog Formavera and the Brooklyn-based reading series Us&Them, he lives and works in New York.

soliloquio5

non vi è tempo alcuno che mi separi da te. il tempo, a dire il vero, non separa affatto, semmai riunisce, tieneci insieme. nessun tempo da te mi separa, me, la mia voce che nega se stessa, l’atona presenza di un uomo. nessun tempo separa quest’uomo dalle tue belle labbra di rubino. e mi fa specie uscire sempre dal negozio per una porta a vetri. e mi fa  specie la presenza leggera di quest’uomo, per le strade. mi delude la mia stessa voce, che ha breve tenore nel tempo, nel tempo che non ci separa ma ci unisce. mi delude il mio stesso cammino, la mano che sbaglia ogni volta la scelta tra lo spingere e il tirare. mi deludono il campo alto del cielo e il petto nudo in televisione. l’uscita all’aria fresca, dopo la porta a vetri, e l’atona presenza di quest’uomo, sottratto a tutte le frequenze della luce, sottratto a tutte le frequenze del suono, e dunque in movimento, e nessun tempo mi separa da te, ma questo nessuno tempo è veramente invalicabile. il respire del mio corpo in letargo ti porta le parole dal mio petto direttamente alle tue orecchie. laddove nasce Gesù, nella torsione del collo. laddove nasce Gesù, dalla verginità del tuo orecchio, appena sfiorato da una voce atonale. agone del mio stesso camminare, tra asfalto e campo alto, d’aria, invalicaible, tempo e pensiero sottratti alle frequenze

soliloquy5

there’s no such time that stands between us. time, in truth, never separates. if anything, it unites, holds together. no time stands between you and me—me, my voice that refutes itself, an atonal presence of a man. no time stands between this man and your beautiful ruby lips. and it’s a wonder to always be exiting through glass doors. and it’s a wonder, the faint shadow of this man, wandering the streets. my own voice lets me down. its brief tenor in time, in time that does not separate but unites. my own legs let me down, my hand that always pushes when you’re supposed to pull. the high field of the sky and bare chest on the screen let me down. the fresh air, between the glass doors, this atonal presence of a man, detached from all frequencies of light, detached from all frequencies of sound, and therefore in motion, and no time stands between us, but this no-time is truly insurmountable. the breathing of my body in hibernation carries my words straight from my chest to your ears. there where Jesus is born, in the crook of your neck. there where Jesus is born, out from the virginity of your ear, wafted by my atonal voice. the agon of my walking, between the asphalt and the high field above, of air, insurmountable, time and thought detached from all frequencies.

***

Poet:  Lorenzo Carlucci (1976, Rome) is featured in the twelfth edition of the Quaderno di poesia contemporanea italiana (Marcos y Marcos, 2015; Notebook of Contemporary Italian Poetry), a biennial series edited by Franco Buffoni. He has published two poetry collections, La comunità assoluta (Lampi di Stampa, 2008) and Ciclo di Giuda e altre poesie (L’Arcolaio, 2008), and his third collection, Sono qui solo a scriverti e non so chi tu sia, is forthcoming from Camera Verde press. Carlucci holds a Ph.D. in mathematics from the University of Siena, a Ph.D. in computer science from the University of Delaware, and is a professor of mathematical logic at the University of Rome “La Sapienza.”

Translator:  Todd Portnowitz is the author of two translations, Midnight in Spoleto by Paolo Valesio (Fomite, 2017) and Long Live Latin by Nicola Gardini (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2018), and the recipient of a Raiziss/de Palchi Fellowship from the Academy of American Poets. A co-founder of the Italian poetry blog Formavera and the Brooklyn-based reading series Us&Them, he lives and works in New York.

[ stazione a padova ]

troppa carta per scrivere. tu produrre. tu tenere. dei crimini, i più impuniti: i più efferati. per un giorno con chi prende la corriera tutti i giorni. dai paesi per andare a lavorare a studiare in città. sudare per mangiare e studiare per conoscere. una maledizione piena di grazia piena di rigore. codifica intenzione e cambiamento. tutte categorie assai deboli per giustificare una forma fondare un discrimine qualsiasi. nel fiato del toro, nei suoi sette mesi, nelle tonnellate piuttosto, fondiamo qualcosa, nei tre metri e mezzo a norma di legge nella norma antifumo nella norma antistupro nella norma anticrisi nello sciopero anticrisi nei mitra piuttosto negli 0 virgola 5 dell’alcool nel sangue. non nel cambiamento opposto a qualcos’altro. non nel cambiamento del vocabolario non nel lessico nuovo, nulla si fonda su questo piuttosto sulla distanza tra il carnevale e lo chador sullo stare vicini sui treni nei pullman per studiare e per lavorare. questa grande confusione i castighi i massacri le dominazioni questa grande confusione impassibile inarginabile su questa impossibilità di arginare fondare fondiamo come il maschio che trova un punto d’appoggio per la monta come la femmina l’offre e permette; la negazione della morte in un sacrificio alla morte.

[ bus station, padua ]

too much paper to write. you creator. you controller. of all crimes, the least punished: the most savage. for a day with those who take the bus every day. to leave the country to study to work in the city. to sweat for food and to study for knowledge. a curse filled with grace filled with discipline. codification, intention and change. all fairly weak categories with which to justify a form on which to found discrimination of any kind. but rather on a bull’s breath, on its seven months, on its tons of flesh let’s found something, on the twenty feet of distance by regulation of law on our anti-smoking regulations on our anti-rape regulations on our anti-economic crisis regulations on our strikes against crises on machine guns on our 0 point 5 blood alcohol content let’s found something. not on a change opposed to some other thing. not on a change of vocabulary not on a new slang, found nothing on this but rather on the distance between mardi gras and a burka on our pressing together on trains on busses to study to work. this great confusion punishments massacres rulerships this great uncontainable immovable confusion over this impossibility to contain to found something let’s found how a male finds a toehold to mount a female and how she offers and allows it; the negation of death with a sacrifice to death.

***

Poet:  Lorenzo Carlucci (1976, Rome) is featured in the twelfth edition of the Quaderno di poesia contemporanea italiana (Marcos y Marcos, 2015; Notebook of Contemporary Italian Poetry), a biennial series edited by Franco Buffoni. He has published two poetry collections, La comunità assoluta (Lampi di Stampa, 2008) and Ciclo di Giuda e altre poesie (L’Arcolaio, 2008), and his third collection, Sono qui solo a scriverti e non so chi tu sia, is forthcoming from Camera Verde press. Carlucci holds a Ph.D. in mathematics from the University of Siena, a Ph.D. in computer science from the University of Delaware, and is a professor of mathematical logic at the University of Rome “La Sapienza.”

Translator:  Todd Portnowitz is the author of two translations, Midnight in Spoleto by Paolo Valesio (Fomite, 2017) and Long Live Latin by Nicola Gardini (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2018), and the recipient of a Raiziss/de Palchi Fellowship from the Academy of American Poets. A co-founder of the Italian poetry blog Formavera and the Brooklyn-based reading series Us&Them, he lives and works in New York.