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Scott Esposito

Scott Esposito is the co-author of The End of Oulipo? (with Lauren Elkin; Zero Books, 2013). His writing has appeared recently in Music & Literature, Drunken Boat, and The Point. His criticism appears frequently in the Times Literary Supplement, the San Francisco Chronicle, and The Washington Post.



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The Last Redoubt

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November 2014

Scott Esposito

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November 2014

As they say of politics, I have found essay-writing to be the art of the possible. Certain work can only be done in those...

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February 2014

Another Way of Thinking

Scott Esposito

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February 2014

I. There is no substitute for that moment when a book places into our mind thoughts we recognise as our...

Если у вас в мегаполисе ещё помнят обо мне, ссыльном, Знай, кто спросит: я умер, едва приговор огласили Мёртвый живу, хожу, тело донашиваю, Оно послушное – ссыхается на костях Я здесь чужак, варвар, языка не носитель, Неба коптитель, волосы стали белые, Мёртвыми губами учу гетскую грамоту, Мёртвыми ногами топчу твёрдую воду Что тебе рассказать, чтоб не скучала? Скачут Кони по гладкой реке, и стрелы летают, Рыбы торчат изо льда с открытыми ртами, Некому их вынимать Некому меня понимать Вино замёрзло, стоит само без кувшина, Кусок вина отломлю и сосу, как сиську Яблок не достать Ты бы меня не узнала Местные замотаны в шкуры, на тогу косятся, Только лица и видно, да и те в бороде Даже звёзды здесь не как у людей   If anyone in your global city still holds me, exile, in memory, Know that I died as soon as they read out the sentence I live dead, walk around dead, wear out the remains of my body, My agreeable body, flesh cracking on dry bones Here I am an alien, barbarian, non-native speaker, Idler with time on his hands but white in his hair, I don’t get their speech, I forget the words that I study, Just consonant clusters, no vowels for poetry What can I talk about so as not to bore you? Horses Slip on hard rivers, arrows hit targets, philosophy is stupid Fish stick out of the ice with mouths agape, Too much air for them, too little ear for me Wine frozen overnight, it stands by itself, the vessel in shards, I chop a piece off and suck on it like an infant The apples at the market are tawny and wrinkly like shrunken heads The locals, fir-tall, fur-clad, point at my toga, make shivering Gestures No human faces – just beards and hair over fur Even the stars look down on me     AFTERWORD   In 8 CE, the Roman poet Publius Ovidius Naso was exiled on the direct orders of Augustus to Tomis, a distant imperial outpost on the Black Sea in what is now Romania He died there a decade later, never receiving permission to come home despite his constant entreaties The exact cause of Ovid’s punishment is unknown; the poems he composed in Tomis appeared in two collections under the titles of Tristia, or ‘Laments’, and Epistulae ex

Contributor

August 2014

Scott Esposito

Contributor

August 2014

Scott Esposito is the co-author of The End of Oulipo? (with Lauren Elkin; Zero Books, 2013). His writing has...

Negation: A Response to Lars Iyer's 'Nude in Your Hot Tub'

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September 2012

Scott Esposito

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September 2012

I do not know whether I have anything to say, I know that I am saying nothing; I do not know if what I...
Art's Fading Sway: Russian Ark by Aleksandr Sokurov

Art

May 2012

Scott Esposito

Art

May 2012

I have often fallen asleep in small theatres. It is an embarrassing thing to have happen during one-man shows, and I am certain that...

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poetry

January 2014

Three New Poems

Antjie Krog

poetry

January 2014

Antjie Krog was born and grew up in the Free State province of South Africa. She became editor of...

poetry

August 2017

From The Dolphin House

Richard O’Brien

poetry

August 2017

Note for the following three poems: In 1965, a bottlenose dolphin christened Peter was the subject of a scientific...

poetry

Issue No. 8

Thank You For Your Email

Jack Underwood

poetry

Issue No. 8

Two years ago I was walking up a mountain path having been told of excellent views from the summit....

 

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