Authors: Jean-Michel Maulpoix, Dawn Cornelio
ISBN-13: 9781929918676, ISBN-10: 1929918674
Format: Paperback
Publisher: BOA Editions, Ltd.
Date Published: July 2005
Edition: Bilingual
Jean-Michel Maulpoix was born November 11, 1952 in Montbeliard, France. He is the author of twenty-five poetry collections, and thirteen volumes of essay and criticism. He is director of the quarterly literary journal Le Nouveau Recueil and Professor of Modern and Contemporary Poetry at the University Parix X-Nantere. Dawn Cornelio received her PhD in French from University of Connecticut. Her thesis was based on translating the poetry of Jean-Michel Maulpoix. Since 2002 she has been assistant professor of French Studies at University of Guelph (Ontario). Her translations have appeared in various literary journals.
Prose poems and blank verse poems encompassing melancholy, nostaligia and hope with formal and thematic symmetry.
We know love exists through hearsay | 21 | |
The sea within us tries out sentences | 23 | |
Sometimes one of us stands near the sea | 25 | |
On nice days, the open sea shimmers | 27 | |
Blue's recovery after the downpour ... | 29 | |
"There were some unusual clouds that year" | 31 | |
"The sky's substance is strangely tender" | 33 | |
Dark-eyed women have a blue gaze | 35 | |
Do not think all this blue is without pain | 37 | |
In summer, in the evening ... | 41 | |
They move about | 43 | |
Alive, they proceed hands first | 45 | |
The sea is a picture book | 47 | |
They look at the blue, but will never know how to say it | 49 | |
They are sometimes seen beneath lampposts | 51 | |
He's heading out to sea is what they say of someone embarking on a journey ... | 53 | |
They leave their islands to go to sea | 55 | |
He picks up a pen or a paintbrush | 57 | |
Orthodoxy of blue | 61 | |
For centuries, she's been beating | 63 | |
The sea is the gods' vacancy | 65 | |
Sometimes, it's only the light sound of forks against earthenware | 67 | |
Soon there was nothing left of belief but the memory of its color | 69 | |
Nothing remains but an empty gesture resembling prayer | 71 | |
Sometimes words hurry | 73 | |
Soul | 75 | |
There | 77 | |
Blue makes no noise | 81 | |
All this blue is not the same ink | 83 | |
We don't know : we don't understand | 85 | |
Blue increases and reproduces on the debris of our life | 87 | |
The blue of the sky can do without our help | 89 | |
Like a cloth, the sky soaks | 91 | |
The blue around here blurs when night falls | 93 | |
There is nothing that can be locked up in a book | 95 | |
This blue belongs to no one | 97 | |
The sea's masts are illusory | 101 | |
Bugles, horses of the deep, mouth of the sea! | 103 | |
With my dulcimers, my trumpet and my timpani | 105 | |
Here we strike the iron of the soul | 107 | |
The man swimming there is an iodine and cobalt poem | 109 | |
Unending narration of the open sea | 111 | |
So much light in tears | 113 | |
From all over, she flows | 115 | |
A horizon of slate and slag | 117 | |
You there, the tiny body of a transfixed man ... | 121 | |
You're soaking in dreams, you lose your foothold in yourself | 123 | |
White swimmer in the sea's arms | 125 | |
Use this blue to compose | 127 | |
Don't balk at the expense | 129 | |
You have blue at your fingertips | 131 | |
You burn with your sentences | 133 | |
And you there, smeared with cherries? | 135 | |
You were the bluest in your dress | 137 | |
Nine days at sea as in a church | 141 | |
This blue sticks to my lips | 143 | |
Start from nothing, emphasize this nothing | 145 | |
I've been putting words next to words for a long time | 147 | |
In language, I contemplate the blue of the sky | 149 | |
For me, writing is about departing | 151 | |
I cannot survive in the impossible | 153 | |
Late in the autumn, when the rain falls with a soft noise ... | 155 | |
Everything I've loved, everything I've lost ... | 157 | |
Death falls asleep right against the sea | 161 | |
Aluminum-colored fish wander in the sea's baggage holds | 163 | |
Along the cliffs and beaches, the sea looks after our remains | 165 | |
In the evening when it pulls back to leave all the room to darkness ... | 167 | |
The edge of the world is quite near ... | 169 | |
Broken old women move about all evening ... | 171 | |
A heart of crushed glass | 173 | |
What kind of snow continuously falls ... | 175 | |
Does the sky enjoy hearing this faint sound of a creaking heart? | 177 | |
Emma liked blue | 181 | |
Her dresses must be mentioned | 183 | |
When she loosens her dress, the man is silent | 185 | |
No one can express her desire | 187 | |
If you call her, she doesn't come | 189 | |
She sometimes remembers her childhood | 191 | |
So many days have passed ... | 193 | |
Some say she once dreamed of evaporating | 195 | |
Loves is what she calls these departing sailors and sailboats on the open sea ... | 197 |