After the weekend, this cow rummages through the debris left by the visiting humans; the remains of campfires, plastic carrier bags, bottles and beer cans. We know, we’ve seen it. Poor cow. Fabio Morábito reminds us of… Read More
Today Piedad Bonnett sings the praises of the oft-neglected sea cucumber. I once spent so long trying to find her house in Bogotá, in a taxi with Jorge Fondebrider and a clueless driver, that she thought we’d been… Read More
Now, listen: do not go roaming with the possum. Is that perfectly clear? from A Somewhat Difficult Syntax The possum represents those who craved the Holy Word, but who, once they have received it, do nothing… Read More
Today – because ‘it’s the only thing the universe knows how to do’ – a poem about falling, from Argentina’s Beatríz Vignoli. I love the particularity of these lines: ‘If they tell you that I fell / don’t… Read More
Carlos López Beltrán is the author of one of the most haunting poems in our anthology, The Other Tiger: as the speaker travels by train through the German forest, he has a vision of the son he never… Read More
Today’s poem is another of my favourites from The Other Tiger, an extraordinary journey through family memory, in which the unsayable is said, and the tree of family is revealed to not know its roots. ‘Tree’… Read More
‘When spirit plays at being matter, it turns into cat’. A selection of cat poems from Darío Jaramillo. Published in Impossible Loves (Carcanet, 2019). Cats The moon gilds the rooftops. Unannounced, the shadows of cats appear…. Read More
What is insignificance? The routines of the quotidinal? Can one, nevertheless, become an artist of the quotidinal? And if making tea, is it not a point of some importance to use the correct tea, in its allocated… Read More
Imagine that you are in a dark nightclub and a Tiger is seated at the bar, observing you curiously. Something like this happened to Pedro Serrano in Cardiff a few years back. I know; I was there,… Read More
Today’s poem, from Costa Rica’s Mauricio Molina, concerns a castle, a bishop, and . . . lycanthrogyny? It is dedicated to Lilith, who howls in the night. The Old Lycanthrope The old lycanthrope takes a stroll… Read More
Wendy Guerra‘s poem, ‘Reverse Journey’, appropriately reflects our current state of travel: it takes place without actually going anywhere. The poem is one of my favourites from The Other Tiger. Guerra, pictured above in matching colours… Read More
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