Rosalia de Castro (1837-1885) is considered the founder of modern Galician literature. She wrote three major books of poetry: two in Galician, Galician Songs and New Leaves, and one in Spanish, On the Banks of the Sar. Nourished by the popular songs the author heard around her, Galician Songs was first published in 1863 and dedicated on 17 May, the date that a hundred years later, in 1963, would become and has remained Galician Literature Day, when the work of a particular Galician author is celebrated. Galician Songs marks the first full publication of any of Rosalia de Castro's books of poetry in English and is accompanied by a translator's introduction that argues for the importance and contemporaneity of the author's work and poetics, not just in Galician, but in English.

There was death and death entered love; writing mutated. Even so, when the poem writes itself, it is loyal only to its own wound; this is its law of gravity. Hordes of Writing, the third book in a projected pentology, "Method," is an essential book from one of the most abysmal, mutant, indispensable and rupturist contemporary European poets.

In 2000 in Galicia, in a maelstrom of rupture from her previous poetics, well-known poet Chus Pato gave readers a startling new book that instantly demarcated the literary landscape. This book was a reverberative crescendo, a roar and clamour of genres and fictions for the multipled "I" in a time of unspeakable catastrophes: m-Tala.

My Beloved Wager gathers essays by noted poet and translator Erin Moure, and records a quarter century of writing practice emerging from a city of exhilarating poetic and translatory possibility: Montreal. In her essays and linguistic-sculptural interventions on what poetry makes possible, Moure reveals why she has placed her bets on poetry as a way of life. In these works, the richness of poetry is laid bare as Moure challenges us to think more deeply about who we are as speakers, readers, writers, and citizens of the world.

In Chus Pato's poems, language is a cognitive-emotive artefact, and this in every living sense of the word: explosive. Her language welcomes cognition's pathways, and stylizes history, literature, myths of origin, lineage, friendship, and the realities of nationalism in one huge breath. When her poems foreground elements of Galician culture and reality, these turn out not to be private and enclosed, but elements of our reality too. She explodes forms, explodes the lyric and what lyric possibility is (races it onward in prose poems, invents avatars that bear the place of the I: the she-author, Horda, Brenda, ), engages myth as active in the present tense. In her various works, Ashurbanipal's library at Nineveh still exists, cuneiform is readable, Ophelia speaks Galician. In "Charenton", Pato presents the locale of Weiss' Marat/Sade as a play of shadows, light, beauty and intensity that enacts Galician being and the agonies of its history, and of a woman writer in whom this history is chiselled. Its language is lucid, fervent, beautiful: Chus Pato's "Charenton" is not just Galicia, it is Earth, our earth too.

In Flesh of Leviathan, Chus Pato alters her cadence to record, in sombre lyric form, the direct address of a singular voice that seems to emerge from time itself. In these poems, worldly things are largely absent and those present are iconic: birds, skies, winds. Through them, Pato articulates the possibility of thinking, the foreignness of any thinking subject, the borders to be crossed to move thinking forward, and the relation of thinking with time as humanity approaches-or not-time's end.