By Gerardo fernández Fe Not for bringing to mind the word hodgepodge is a book like Tumult, by German author Hans Magnus Enzensberger (Malpaso Ediciones, 2015), necessarily condemned to be an imitation of chaos and the ordinary mess of memory. The Bavarian-born writer recounts how, upon arriving in Leningrad in August 1962, with an invitation... Continue Reading →
Quienes me conocen saben que, cuando me siento a ver cine, cualquier interrupción puede ser fatal. Me pone de muy mal humor que se comente [more…]
Este texto aparece en mi libro «Mandíbulas rotas» Me pregunto si la gente me recordara cuando me haya ido. ¿Seguirán leyendo mis libros? ¿O [more…]
Air a steel door, fingers arthritic hinges.They walk through. Cinch khaki coatsCloser to their rusting bodies.Sling packs over their shoulders.The road oiled with iceSurrendering every direction but horizontal.Steps accumulate. Are they saying goodbyeAs they must or is it too early?Are they saying hello But too soon for a full accounting?Assault rifles jumpy in their arms. At […]
Tonight time took its tollon the wizard’s dementiarendering himsightless in the supermarket,until Anne Sexton’s face shoneon a head of lettucemaggots rooted throughin swirling abandonsteadfastly eating heredges of literary excess,consuming the dark holesof leafy disorder (oncea bouquet of green fulsomenessdespite its little planet fullof hair-thin veins) –& Anne devoured each wordin gourmand heavenreflecting her brilliant shimmerback […]
Passing through the needle’s eye:a neighbor’s camel, another neighbor’s horse,the donkeys they ride, centuries, millennia, wagon loads of lost time drenched in this morning’s blinking dewdrops, yesterday’s smoldering clouds, Catherine wheels rolled off Medieval assembly lines, even before there was anyone to notice, before the fretting, the hand-wringing, when a full belly was the full […]
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