Eunice Andrada



Unconsenting to allegory: Jocasta Suzanne reviews Eunice Andrada and Amy Crutchfield

Allegory demands perfection of itself – the relation between A and B has to be airtight to function. Insofar as it can only be perfect as mediated through our lives, allegory demands perfection from us as well. It would make sense, then, that in a period of breakdown allegory becomes stressed, intensified to a pitch of delirious, panicky rage; it collapses in on its own perfection, black-hole style.

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Pink Grapefruit

Six Caravaggios that searing afternoon. Our dehydration as marble dripped slick with light on the statues, the lids of tombs, what eats the flesh in the afterlife, glinting newborn that autumn. In a haven of temperature-controlled galleries, you sutured a …

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Angelita Biscotti Reviews TAKE CARE by Eunice Andrada

‘The actor is a heart athlete,’ Antonin Artaud wrote in 1958. He was writing about theatre, but I wonder if the same could be said of the poet. ‘To arrive at the emotions through their powers instead of regarding them as pure extraction, confers a mastery on an actor equal to a true healer’s. A crude empiricist, a practitioner guided by vague instinct. To use emotions the same way a boxer uses muscles. To know there is a physical outlet for the soul. (93 – 95).

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