Sasja Janssen is a poet and novelist based in Amsterdam. Her first publications were two novels but since her father’s death she has written mainly poetry. Her poems feature the body in many shapes, from tool to target, from weapon to wound. Virgula (2021) was nominated for five Dutch prizes and awarded the prestigious Awater Poetry Prize. Putting On My Species (2014) was her first collection to be translated into English and was published by Shearsman in 2020.Janssen has performed nationally and internationally, including at festivals in Nicaragua, Medellín, Mexico and Buenos Aires.The poet and critic Piet Gerbrandy wrote of her work, ‘The poet tries desperately to grasp something of the insane world we find ourselves in and in which we have to simply make do, with totally inadequate means.’

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• VIRGULAthe night I was impregnatedtalk to methere where he has a student singwe go deeperthere is eternity in heightyou leave me here with that dingy roomI love birch treesI IMPLORE YOUbecause the jackdaws are ignoring menow I’m less able to handle the little thingsas I drive a spadebecause the chestnut tree in front of the prisonnow I’m climbing out of the ditchand I have risen from my first murderbecause each day beginsnow the little things are bigand I see them fly off againVIRGULAthe morning is a woundthe metal under the mattressI still need to teach the horse to swimwhen the hours fall through the ceilingmy new husband has a dead wifea drop falls into my glass of milkthere’s no wind

Sasja Janssen is a poet and novelist based in Amsterdam. Her first publications were two novels but since her father’s death she has written mainly poetry. Her poems feature the body in many shapes, from tool to target, from weapon to wound. Virgula (2021) was nominated for five Dutch prizes and awarded the prestigious Awater Poetry Prize. Putting On My Species (2014) was her first collection to be translated into English and was published by Shearsman in 2020.Janssen has performed nationally and internationally, including at festivals in Nicaragua, Medellín, Mexico and Buenos Aires.The poet and critic Piet Gerbrandy wrote of her work, ‘The poet tries desperately to grasp something of the insane world we find ourselves in and in which we have to simply make do, with totally inadequate means.’

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• VIRGULAthe night I was impregnatedtalk to methere where he has a student singwe go deeperthere is eternity in heightyou leave me here with that dingy roomI love birch treesI IMPLORE YOUbecause the jackdaws are ignoring menow I’m less able to handle the little thingsas I drive a spadebecause the chestnut tree in front of the prisonnow I’m climbing out of the ditchand I have risen from my first murderbecause each day beginsnow the little things are bigand I see them fly off againVIRGULAthe morning is a woundthe metal under the mattressI still need to teach the horse to swimwhen the hours fall through the ceilingmy new husband has a dead wifea drop falls into my glass of milkthere’s no wind

Sasja Janssen is a poet and novelist based in Amsterdam. Her first publications were two novels but since her father’s death she has written mainly poetry. Her poems feature the body in many shapes, from tool to target, from weapon to wound. Virgula (2021) was nominated for five Dutch prizes and awarded the prestigious Awater Poetry Prize. Putting On My Species (2014) was her first collection to be translated into English and was published by Shearsman in 2020.Janssen has performed nationally and internationally, including at festivals in Nicaragua, Medellín, Mexico and Buenos Aires.The poet and critic Piet Gerbrandy wrote of her work, ‘The poet tries desperately to grasp something of the insane world we find ourselves in and in which we have to simply make do, with totally inadequate means.’

Select Guide Rating

• VIRGULAthe night I was impregnatedtalk to methere where he has a student singwe go deeperthere is eternity in heightyou leave me here with that dingy roomI love birch treesI IMPLORE YOUbecause the jackdaws are ignoring menow I’m less able to handle the little thingsas I drive a spadebecause the chestnut tree in front of the prisonnow I’m climbing out of the ditchand I have risen from my first murderbecause each day beginsnow the little things are bigand I see them fly off againVIRGULAthe morning is a woundthe metal under the mattressI still need to teach the horse to swimwhen the hours fall through the ceilingmy new husband has a dead wifea drop falls into my glass of milkthere’s no wind