29/12/08

Decisivo

About her childhood in the Canadian wilderness, Margaret Atwood wrote: “On fine days we spent our time turning over rocks to see what was underneath. The most disappointing was nothing. Then, in ascending order, came worms, millipedes, spiders, beetles, ants' nests, toads, snakes, mice, and newts and salamanders. Newts and salamanders were the ultimate; they were extremely rare. Sometimes we just looked, and meditated, and put the rock back. Sometimes we poked things with a stick to see what would happen.”

“People often ask me, ''What's the difference between writing poetry and writing fiction?'' And surely it is this: with a poem, you look, and meditate, and put the rock back. With fiction you poke things with a stick to see what will happen.”

---
The Poetry of Margaret Atwood
Roger Fritts
Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
Bethesda, Maryland
December 2, 2007

Los regalitos que hoy me han hecho muy feliz II



19/12/08

Ida y vuelta

En estos días el sol calicina un rostro hasta resecar y cuartear las entradas de la piel. Un sol que de tanto es blanco y restalla en el asfalto. Los autos, los amigos, las casas. El aire envenenado. Frío.

17/12/08

And then came the rush of the flood



Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind or waterfall could STALL me
And then came the rush of the flood
The stars at night turned DEEP to dust

Melt me down
into big black armour
Leave no trace
Of grace
Just in your honor
Lower me down
TO CULPRIT SOUTH
Make 'EM WASH A SPACE IN TOWN
FOR THE LEAD
AND THE DREGS OF MY BED
I'VE BEEN SLEEPING
Lower me down
PIN ME IN
Secure the grounds
For the later parade

Once I wanted to be the greatest
TWO FISTS OF SOLID ROCK
WITH BRAINS THAT COULD EXPLAIN
Any feeling
Lower me down
PIN ME IN
Secure the grounds
FOR THE LEAD
AND THE DREGS OF MY BED
I'VE BEEN SLEEPING
For the later parade

Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind or water fall could STALL me
And then came the rush of the flood
The stars at night turned DEEP to dust

13/12/08

Epifanía o lo que de mí se dice (Tú sí escribes muy bonito)



Dicen de mí
que yo he sido un libro abierto
Donde mucha gente ha escrito
no hagas caso, nada es cierto.

En blanco está
nádie supo escribir nada
no dejaron ni una huella
nadie le importaba nada.

Me importas tú
tú si escribes muy bonito
para tí soy libro abierto
escribe en mí, te necesito.

Escribe en mí, te necesito.
Escribe en mí, te necesito.
Escribe en mí, te necesito.

7/12/08

Con David Huerta


Abrazados



Te abrazo y en el agua de oro
se inicia
una perfumada ondulación.

Te abrazo, cierro los ojos
y estamos en Bagdad.

Te abrazo lentamente
hasta que una electricidad
de sábanas y relojes
me enciende cada hueso.

Te abrazo, en fin: cierras los ojos,
abro las manos
para sentir la playa delgada
de tu espalda. Me abrazas

y caemos en un arroyo, alveolo,
filo de olvido,
fijeza de espuma y llamarada.



HUERTA, David, La música de lo que pasa, CNCA-DGP, México DF, 1997. (Col. Práctica Mortal) p. 96