New cinepoem • Translating Myself

I revisit the idea of innate language—languages we have always known and have yet to speak.

One of my last cinepoems, Keeping Up with the Huidobros, used a confrontational method of translating a translation, more specifically, leveraging the homophonic (sound) to get new meaning from poems.  In this latest cinepoem, “Translating Myself”, I apply what poet Clark Coolidge once said of writing poetry: “It had to make itself something through me.” In this spirit, I’ve layered my own words to create new poems from one.

Translating myself

This is what we hurt or hurl

or vex and transpose: the 

opining horizon, leaving us. 

There is a green leaf in the fire.

My flesh, you’ve made the two

of us a blind study. We’ve left 

our vortex, grainy and laminated

in space, and we never reach 

the summit of suns, big yolk

growths, an autumn phenomenon,

bringing us kilometers of numerical frosts.

I’ve been waiting to hear from you—

the other you—the silence is never 

too long like the sleeve of my skin.

How we multiple etcetera our thoughts, 

how we remain etched in this cosmic 

fluid. Here the screen malfunctions. 

I am a radio. I am the soundwave.

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