John Kinsella juega a la poesía con el ajedrez

Creo recordar que en alguna ocasión ya dejé constancia aquí de mi gusto por el poeta australiano John Kinsella. Ayer, mientras hojeaba un par de antologías, encontré dos poemas en los que el ajedrez juega con los versos de manera mínima y máxima: desde la altura del título arroja su luminosa sombra de sentido para intensificar la emoción y ahondar el significado de dos desesperaciones y una misma soledad: las del loco y las del suicida. Casi nunca el ajedrez aparece en la Literatura de forma tan coherente y estructuradora.

Chess Piece Cornered

Mice in the eaves, and breathe well my dear

Breathe well my dear, mice in eaves in madhouse.

Breathe well in this

                                                  space

                                                  solitude,

                                                                     breath never

sweet breath, that lends me not

to the small persistent clutter of mice,

river long, and this, your breath

hard to find. Mice in their short breath

heard only at night. By the vent. By the pillow.[1]

___________________

Endgame

Who upon chewing glass

to a point where his lips, cheeks, and tongue

became a viscous paste

then took his leave

calling on the regenerative powers

of the river

and found a jetty from which to launch

his healing swim

who finished his can of emu bitter

and placed his shoes and the bulk of his clothes

neatly by the iron-knuckled

capstans.[2]

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[1] TRANTER, John & MEAD, Philip (ed.). The Penguin Book of Modern Australian Poetry. Ringwood: Penguin, 1991, p. 459.

[2] KINSELLA, John. Poems 1980-1994. South Fremantle: Fremantle Arts Centre Press, 1997, pp. 218-9.