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R. A. Villanueva

@caesura.bsky.social

1.1K followers 200 following 12 posts

Author of 𝘼 𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙮 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙, winner of the Alice James Award—and 𝙍𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙖, winner of the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry bio.site/ravillanueva

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Reposted by R. A. Villanueva

National Book Critics Circle @bookcritics.bsky.social · 06/05/2026

NBCC member Tiffany Troy interviewed R.A. Villanueva about "A Holy Dread" for the University of Arizona Poetry Center blog:

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An Interview with R.A. Villanueva

The cover of A Holy Dread (left), and poet R. A. Villanueva, photographed by Beowulf Sheehan. R. A. Villanueva is the author of two award-winning collections of poetry: A Holy Dread (Alice James Books,...

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R. A. Villanueva @caesura.bsky.social · 30/11/2025

Resounding thanks to @publisherswkly.bsky.social for this beautiful, incisive reflection on 𝘼 𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙮 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙—

A ★ starred review from Publishers Weekly:

“Intellectually rigorous and emotionally piercing, Villanueva's sophomore collection (after Reliquaria) threads Greek myth, Christian iconography, and family history into a frank exploration of mortality. The poems address grief and loss from many angles—from the pain of a loved one's death to solastalgia (distress caused by environmental change), and most vividly, mourning for the loss of safety as fascism descends upon the United States. A wrenching series of sonnets that opens the book addresses the murders of Black men by police and the devastation left behind for their loved ones and communities: ‘Today they are/ burning the names of the boys they are/ shooting in the street. This because we-// and they-know ashes mean undone leads/ and muzzles loosened, floodlights and flares,/ eyes doused with milk.’ Elsewhere, Villanueva provides an emotional counterbalance by depicting Penelope from The Odyssey as a radiant figure, alive ‘among all-trembling miracles.’ Throughout, Villanueva's imagery is textured and evocative (‘From the overlook// you catch fog giving way to Mt./ Baker, the egrets like knuckles/ into the mouth of the after-/ noon’). The result is a dynamic book of witness, resistance, and radical hope. (Feb.)”

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R. A. Villanueva @caesura.bsky.social · 20/01/2025

——Jenny Holzer, 𝙐𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙙 (from 𝙇𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜) MORE THAN ONCE I’VE AWAKENED WITH TEARS RUNNING DOWN MY CHEEKS. I HAVE HAD TO THINK WHETHER I WAS CRYING OR WHETHER IT WAS INVOLUNTARY, LIKE DROOLING.

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R. A. Villanueva @caesura.bsky.social · 28/11/2024

After hearing word of another dear teacher’s passing, I spent this morning searching through my inbox for Breyten Breytenbach’s name, reading our notes and messages. I look at his self-portraits with older eyes now. And I hear again—and anew—his hopes for us sent from the very edges of 2006

“autoportrait ‘jour’,” a painting by Breyten Breytenbach dated “18/8/93.”

The title is handwritten in black at the top of the bright orange and yellow canvas and suggests that this is a self-portrait. At the center of the image is a hybrid form: it has the head of a songbird (with black, white, and red feathers) and the oversized body of a man (wearing a dark blue shirt covered in red stains or streaks). The arms and hands of the figure seems to be leaning on a table or edge the same color as the background; it casts a dark shadow.

A screenshot of an email from the poet, teacher, and anti-apartheid activist Breyten Breytenbach. It was originally sent on 12/31/06 with the subject line: “Happy 2007.”

The text reads: “Dear sister and brothers,

To wish you all a grand and deeply gratifying 2007.

May the lines fall for you in the appointed places, may you knock the knife-hafts of writing against the bone of words and extract the marrow of poetry and know that it is sweet, may you go on showing that there's human dignity and worth in living and continue believing that justice is attainable.

I'm writing to you from Catalonia. The days are quiet and clear but for the slow smoke of winter in the hollows and the Pyrenees are glimmering white like angels' mirrors on the horizon. Night falls early, bringing heavy dew and cold and absolute silence. In two days' time we'll be heading north to Paris again. And then the traveling starts—Mexico, South Africa, Senegal, probably Holland, and later in the year Caracas and Medellin. And then, if all works out, it will be time to return to New York. I hope to see you there. If not, I'm sure our roads will cross somewhere.

I need to tell you that you were a very special group of people to work with. I don't know how it came about—maybe we were just lucky…”

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R. A. Villanueva @caesura.bsky.social · 26/11/2024

At Unnameable Books in Brooklyn, taped-up on the back wall by a window—this unsigned page divided between handwriting and type: “The purpose of the poetry is not to try to dazzle us with an astonishing thought, but to make one moment of existence unforgettable and worthy of unbearable nostalgia…”