sábado, 27 de octubre de 2012

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]



[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.

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