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Andrea Brady (1974) vit à Londres et dirige les éditions Barque Press fondée en 1995 avec Keston Sutherland et qui ont publié plus de 40 « chapbooks » et une dizaine de livres.
Son dernier livre Vacation of a Lifetime est sorti en 2001 chez Salt. Elle a publié des poèmes dans les revues Arras, The Baffler, Big Allis, Chicago Review, How2, Jacket, Parataxis, Poetry Review, Radical Society, Salt, Stand, triquarterly, et Verse. Elle a participé à de nombreuses lectures publiques en Angleterre et aux Usa. Elle a par ailleurs fondé une séminaire de pratique poétique, enseigne la littérature de la Renaissance à Brunel University, et est co-ordinatrice des archives de littérature contemporaine de l’université de Brunel et du projet d’un site internet proposant une série de lectures et de performances sonores de poètes anglais.
http://www.brunel.ac.uk/about/acad/sa/artstaff/english/andreabrady/
écouter :
 Later a Second Visit
extrait de Later a scond visit :
Yes that thing, the one with the double tabs your prize a blank
verse duped to sleeping turning to face the window where the light
is good for you a rowan tree lowers its senses toward the uncut
grass tips are crushed by setting the risk management strategy
towards not asking our brokers every platter of jumbo shrimp tasted just
so tied her hands to a stool to keep her speaking
you were so moving toward
the window even in the dark I felt it right here but like a field effect
transistor we kept working the gate as if the currents of joy’s
enough reason and impedance flashed on its gold
triangle ‘what did you actually see in it’ ‘today’ ‘yes today’ pluck
names from the air the engine kept running on the van
masts bleating like frog eyes money is now the blood
streaming through the firmament gel I leave on the plastic
strip fencing can we really hock even the interest
waves beat down the porcelain barrier these are the flakes
that came off the solstice sheet no rumple lies I can
see Paul’s and the domed burdens which face returns
to its regulation third dimension when the hazes shatter
like this country’s acanthus leaves in an ill wind what burden
tightening the valves of the heart so she cannot pull off
her risky investments in a cloud of exhaust |
