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lunes, 19 de junio de 2017

Aseem Kaul (trad.) (Fothcoming Rattle Mag.)


Niko


“La locura”, escribe Ghalib, “siempre tiene sus razones;
Seguramente existe algo que el velo intenta proteger”
Y yo pienso en todos estos a
ños que hemos pasado
escuchado estos ghazals, los versos
cayendo de nuestros labios como pedazos de cristales exquisitos
de marcos de ventanas rotos;
moldeando nuestras bocas a su tristeza
desabrochando nuestros cuellos para que su voz manchara
el irritado lenguaje de nuestras canciones.
¿De qué nos hemos estado escondiendo?
qué deseo encontramos dentro
que disfrazamos con las ropas de un hombre muerto.

-Aseem Kaul




 

Ganso Canadiense, CR VocalesV


Tumblr.com


Quién soy sino una sombra
identificada por 300 mg de
quelque chose
un ganso dormido, gritando, ¡estuve aquí! ¡Estuve aquí!
y volando lejos, otra vez,
porque siempre es invierno donde sea que voy
y en cualquier época del año.
Salí de mi historia de la misma forma en la que entré:
Estrangulándome, envenenándome, saltando desde ventanas ajenas.

¿Qué significa que algo te importe?
Además de mirar a tu herida sangrante
y sentir asco.

Hoy, alguien arrolló a una ardilla en la carretera,
mientras yo caminaba a la oficina de correos,
cerca de Ontario Lake
-nunca me tomes en serio con las direcciones.-
La ardilla murió, y yo quedé angustiada a su lado.
La tomé entre mis manos entonando daimoku.
Era toda desfiguración y frivolidad,
fue la primera vez que estuve tan expuesta a las entrañas.
Su nariz estaba intacta.



Solo permíteme morir como ella alguna vez.


No debería escribir sobre estas cosas.


Por un tiempo he tenido miedo de escribir mis poemas,
siempre tienden a repetirse a sí mismos en la vida real,
con tal fuerza,
que termino rezándole a dioses antiguos por piedad,
vaya variante estética para mi nueva vida suburbial.

Abajo en Massachusetts, una tal Michelle ha sido condenada
por incitar a su novio depresivo a suicidarse.
Cautivada, leo las noticias, ¿Qué sintió ella?
Luego de ordenarle que volviera a su camioneta
estacionada en un Kmart,
y le exigió prender el gas y esperar a la muerte.
¿Qué sintió una vez que su último mensaje no obtuvo respuesta?

Soy una millenial, y si,
todos estamos locos.

CR VocalesV

Ghalib by Aseem Kaul (Fragment)

Munch -Two women on the shore


"Madness”, Ghalib writes, “is never without its reasons;
surely there is something that the veil is meant to protect”
And I think of all the years we have spent
listening to these ghazals, the verses
falling from our lips like pieces of exquisite glass
from broken window frames;
shaping our mouths to his sadness,
unbuttoning our collars to let his words stain
the rubbed language of our songs.
What have we been hiding from,
my friend? What longing is this inside us
that we disguise in a dead man’s clothes


-Aseem Kaul


viernes, 16 de junio de 2017

Joan Didion "Goodbye to all that"

Joan Didion


"All I ever did to that apartment was hang fifty yards of yellow theatrical silk across the bedroom windows, because I had some idea that the gold light would make me feel better, but I did not bother to weight the curtains correctly and all that summer the long panels of transparent golden silk would blow out the windows and get tangled and drenched in the afternoon thunderstorms. That was the year, my twenty-eighth, when I was discovering that not all of the promises would be kept, that some things are in fact irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and every procrastination, every mistake, every word, all of it."



Joan Didion  



Canada Goose, CR VocalesV



Grace Cob

Who am I but a shadow
identified by 300 mg of
quelque chose
a sleeping goose, yelling I was here, I was here
and flying away, yet again,
because it is always winter wherever I go
at any time of the year.
I exited my story, in the same way I entered it:
strangling myself, poisoning my lips, jumping from strangers’ windows.

What does it mean to care?
Beside looking at your bleeding wound
and feel disgusted.

Someone hit a squirrel on the road today,
while I walked to send some mail
near Ontario Lake,
- do not ever take me seriously with directions -
The squirrel died, and I was left in total angst by her side
I took her with my bare hands while chanting daimoku
she was all disfiguration and shallowness,
it was the first time I felt so exposed to the real meaning of guts.
Her nose was yet intact.


Just allow me to die like her someday.
I should not write such dark things.


For a while I’ve been afraid of writing poems,
since they always tend to repeat themselves in real life
with such an unimaginable force,
that I end up praying to old gods for mercy,
what a key variation to my new suburban life.

Down in Massachusetts a girl named Michelle has been convicted
for encouraging her mentally ill boyfriend to kill himself,
mesmerized I watched the news, what did she feel?
After ordering him to get back in his truck
that was parked at a Kmart,
and commanded him to turn on the gas
and wait for death to come.
What did she feel once her last message received no answer?

Crazy millennials,
I’m a millennial and yes,
we are all crazy.



CR VocalesV