What´s weird about the Eliot Weinberger anthology of the poets listed below, you might ask. Nothing at all. That is, it seems an admirable project, yet there seems no particular reason to privilege this particular tradition in this particular point in time for the Spanish reader. Maybe, though, it fills the gap between Ginsberg and Asbhery, on the one hand, and Williams and Eliot, on the other. Aullido is in the bookstores for all to see, along with Autorretrato en el espejo convexo, La tierra baldia, etc...

(((

Still in Madrid, but missing you so had to start blogging again.