Come Closer, I Don’t Mind the Silence by Miriam Calleja
Poetry written on two continents over 15 months takes us from island life in the Mediterranean to the American South. The poet finds refuge and understanding in watery dreamscapes; she calls to nature and the elements to piece together a path to where she is right now. What is she but a woman in constant translation?
Hybridity, a change in rhythm, and the use of space craft a collection that exhibits its wounds with its joys and does not draw clear lines between memory and dream logic. We are taken to dark caves and metamorphosized until we recognize the self again. And just as we think we've begun to understand, the walls of the dream are set on fire.
Poetry written on two continents over 15 months takes us from island life in the Mediterranean to the American South. The poet finds refuge and understanding in watery dreamscapes; she calls to nature and the elements to piece together a path to where she is right now. What is she but a woman in constant translation?
Hybridity, a change in rhythm, and the use of space craft a collection that exhibits its wounds with its joys and does not draw clear lines between memory and dream logic. We are taken to dark caves and metamorphosized until we recognize the self again. And just as we think we've begun to understand, the walls of the dream are set on fire.
Poetry written on two continents over 15 months takes us from island life in the Mediterranean to the American South. The poet finds refuge and understanding in watery dreamscapes; she calls to nature and the elements to piece together a path to where she is right now. What is she but a woman in constant translation?
Hybridity, a change in rhythm, and the use of space craft a collection that exhibits its wounds with its joys and does not draw clear lines between memory and dream logic. We are taken to dark caves and metamorphosized until we recognize the self again. And just as we think we've begun to understand, the walls of the dream are set on fire.