for Roya
You are far and I am a falling thing.
My winter haunts our summer hunts
when we were blue and blur. Remember?
I remember watching you watching the river.
How you wore the sky on your back and the earth
on your breast. How you pierced the river
and scattered the clouds. A bolt split through me
seeing you at work and at play, hearing you
rattle and rush up and down the river the length of day.
Those spring mornings, I sensed new depths
in the meaning of the word alive,
understood how sunlight and mist conspire
to reveal us to each other. But each winter
I must lose you to find you again. I see you everywhere,
in everything the wind stirs. This morning,
for instance, as I was reading the book of the forest,
I noticed how each ghost gray beech tree clings
to its autumn leaves, saw in their trembling
the color of your flanks, a copper nimbus
clouding my love-sight. My dagger, lover, queen,
eros arrows us to the spot. The river talks
stories of us if you listen, and the trees keep our secrets
like moss, like lichen. Maybe memory
is not such a bad thing after all—
memory will fly you back to me.
Until then, any perch will do,
and a little river medicine.
La pluma y las cuerdas es el texto que da inicio al poemario Cardiograma, leído por @julianlaya10 un día como hoy en la Casa de la Poesía 😅⚡
AUREA MEDIOCRITAS
Malherbe no estaba muy seguro de que hubiera otra vida, y decía cuando le hablaban del infierno o del paraíso: "He vivido como todos, quiero morir como todos, quiero ir donde van todos".
Tallemant des Réaux, Les Historiettes (XXIX).
El que se contenta con su dorada medianía / no padece intranquilo las miserias de un techo que se desmorona, / ni habita palacios fastuosos / que provoquen a la envidia.[
The leaves fall, fall as from far,
Like distant gardens withered in the heavens;
They fall with slow and lingering descent.
And in the nights the heavy Earth, too, falls
From out the stars into the Solitude.
Thus all doth fall. This hand of mine must fall
And lo! the other one:—it is the law.
But there is One who holds this falling
Infinitely softly in His hands.
From Poems (Tobias A. Wright, 1918), translated by Jessie Lamont.
Esta semana me topé, gracias a una chica simpática que comparte buena data, con un concepto que se está usando y yo no conocía, y me parece genial.
Se trata del "gatekeeping".
En inglés literalmente esto significa "cuidar la reja".
Definición online: "Gatekeeping" es el acto de controlar quién puede o no entrar a un grupo, utilizar un recurso, o acceder a información. El término tiene dos acepciones hoy en día: de modismo en redes o de uso formal institucional.
https://dictionary.cambridge.org/es/diccionario/ingles/gatekeeping
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