"The majority of American readers are, unfortunately, unfamiliar with the name tatiana de la tierra. By way of introduction, here is how the late writer described herself in the essay “Aliens and Others”: I am a fat, slightly bearded lesbian. A white Latina of Colombian extraction. A pagan lacking in Catholic guilt. A hedonist who knows shame. I have been diagnosed with lupus. Drive a pink and purple pickup. Collect rocks. Been poor most of my life. Knew gold-plated Gucci wealth for a few memorable years. I am a writer.”
This is why the fearful suppress them.
This is why the wise follow them."
—Tennessee Williams.
image JBjorkqué pensarán them young retro music lovers adictos al aroma del vinilo que gira y raya deep de esa vieja Joni sentada en un trono con séquito llorador.
cantando o intentándolo.
de nuestra euforia al verla. more or less whole while we all slowly die. or suddenly as we pretend to live.
y me lo pregunto intentando no pensarlo. we mustn’t. I whispered no we must not go back.
a la trampa del momento clave. shattered flesh who cares about heart as both sides now dug into us. deep. as we stood within the theatrics of rupture not knowing the end. porque el final nunca existe.
y entonces, what to do with a case… so full of you… and you, and you...
plagios is the third book by Chicago-based writer om ulloa. Its author prefers the titles of unmaker and recreator to that of poet: she is drawn to ruptures in materials, modes, and identities, as well as words. plagios itself may be best described as a meditation on creative work... “Prenez des ciseaux,” ulloa instructs us near the start of the book... “take up the scissors,” and she waves a newspaper in our direction. The opening focus on creation via dismantling and rearrangement signals key elements of its structure. It also points toward ulloa’s interest in a legacy of modernism, with its strategies of montage and citation.
