Interview with Flavia Calise

Flavia Calise (1992, Buenos Aires) is a poet and performer. He published, among other books, I drink the flowers before I take them (2018), What is tenderness? (2019), The violence of a statue (2020), and his last book As I call you my tomb design (2021) including his first three books Diary in Carmesí (2012), The songs that love the dead (2015) and The fire we made at your house (2018), and unpublished poems. Currently dictates the workshop “It’s important to kiss dancing from time to time.”1 - What are you inspired to write?When writing inspired me in everyday events, emotions and perhaps in the things that could get me to generate the routine, and I take them to a little more exaggerated sides and touched by fantasy, and much in movies. I really like watching movies2 - When did you get excited to publish your poems?In fact, when writing too young is not that I was excited, but I always wanted to publish. I managed to do it when I got the silver and managed to self-finance my first book that was called Diário in carmesí (2012)3 - What is the most lethal of words?The most lethal of the words is in the negative. I think the speech is very dangerous. What we are told and what we are told is very dangerous too, and we must describe it. Therefore, the lethal is not in what is thought to be but in the weight of the negative and the report touched by what hurts us.But also, if I am more positive, the lethal is in the true, in a joke, in the fresh, in a word of love, in a poem or something that no one had written to it a poem.4 - What was the last poem that made you cry?The last poem that made me cry was written by Magalí Antenucci, a student of the workshop I give.5 - What do you do when you cannot write? What if you want to rest and disappear, where do you take refuge?There is no time when you cannot write because for me it is a kind of need and very powerful discharge. With the years, this has been floating and now I am much more loving with this idea and let it happen. When I have to write and deliver something, I read someone else, I watch movies and sometimes I just don't write. I don't take it too hard. Something at night usually shows up.They're a lot in a row when I want to disappear. Before you believed it was possible, but then you realize it is not, and you stop trying and have more lucid, lucid or lucid to finally understand that it is moments. Moments that must pass, and that if it were so easy to disappear, we would have done so. But if I want to disappear, I'll stay in a movie.6 - If you had to choose a book to take a desert island, what would it be?I would take Meteoro by Roberto Piva, Poesia Popular Argentina by Vicente Luy or An Autorretrato in letters of Anne Sexton.7 - What does it do with the power that gives you poetry?Not if poetry gives me power. If I understood for some time that it is my language, I cost me a lot to think about power, at this moment I have not very clear. If what gives me is a home.8- Is it easy to get to the hug through poetry?Yeah. When I hug I refer to the home, to the place of belonging, a place where one, one or joins feels comfortable, comfortable, comode. If it is true that by giving this space of warmth and linguistic and emotional articulation, there is something of happiness that appears. So the hug, reflection and fun appears.9 - What would you do if you weren't a poet?It'd be funny. I'd write jokes and maybe film some contemporary sitcom.10 - Any favorite poems?My favorite poem of this time is one of Vicente Luy of his book Vicente speaks to the people (Editorial La Creciente, Cordoba, 2007):As soon as the storm passesthe mountain streams wrappedand tunabandragging trees, peopleand some loves.I'm lateI lost a pair of tennisAnd I saw a ladyrebounding river down against the stoneswithout resisting.And I tried, but I didn't.That whole day was what you didn't play.The rain of yesterday, lateand night,It was capital;and if well at home again there are goutsand I am sufferingMy scare was far away.In the neighborhood there are no mountainsand the diagonals only give back.But one day later, today, still wetthe doors,I feel panic and violence.Is it love that moves away?No, I did not say sadness; I said panic and violence.You may find yourself; I amthe boy who lost the tennisand barbecue and a remeraand trepo, prey to panic,in time to see a lady passwho was no longer a ladyrebounding down river,steps from Icho Cruz. And triedbut not played- All day was what didn't play.And today, long after,a day after a stormHe feels panic and violence.Is it love that moves away?11 Do you expect you to remember you?I just want you to remember me, do it for two things: 1) if I ever made a good joke and made that person laugh, and 2) if ever some poem mio accompanied someone in a particular moment.12 - What do you think?Lately I think of how speed and acceleration is obstructing and destroying affective bonds. How anxiety makes people not listen. As fear causes people to be clumsy. I think about power relations, how some people use it to do evil. I think of politics and what is going to happen, and I think that it will activate new political discourses. I also think of poetry in the way of resistance, which is something I have been saying for many years because it is necessary as universal and sensitive language.So I get out of the shop and the people around me in poetry. Right now they're my only way to approach the human and poetic together. I greet my work space, It is important to kiss dancing from time to time, andPeople who come who are very talented and generous at the same time. Invite them to read.