Romanian poetry, like Romanian film, is quite the rage these days, in translation or written directly in (interstitial) English. “Foreign” or vernacular-interstitial-creole poetries are gangbusting the well-manicured lawns, the faux-romantic hollows, and the fractured dictionaries of current AmPo, like ruptured oxygen tanks. The barbarians are here, Seferis, and they are so-o-o-o cool. Here are a few by George Vasilievich, Magda Carneci, and other dark-sound vocabularists.
