NUNCA

EL arte es longa y la vida brevis, sí, por supuesto. Pero nunca he dicho que esté enamorado de la literatura, estoy enamorado del pensamiento. La literatura no puede contener todo lo que el pensamiento y el discurso son.

El arte y la literatura son lo de menos.

Del nuevo SUPERCOMPRIMIDOS  II, que se titulará TURBO.

SUPERCOMPRIMIDOS Textos de alta velocidad, era una serie de escritos sin editar escupidos o vomitados, es decir expulsados sin más, riesgosos, brutales y desentendidos la mayoría se perdieron en papel. Al  paso del tiempo el compromiso total, la fascinación por el orden me fue quitando ese ímpetu y ese descaro, trato de recuperar esa velocidad y esa crudeza, sumando el rigor actual en TURBO.

SYLVIA:

IMAGINO TU CABEZA ELECTRIFICADA, EL ELECTROSHOCK Y LOS CABLES,

TU BOCA, Y LAS COSAS QUE SALIERON DE ESE AGUJERO.

 

LADY LAZARUS

Por SYLVIA PLATH

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it-


A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My featureless, fine
Jew linen.



Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?-

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.

I am only thirty.

And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The Peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand in foot -
The big strip tease.

Gentleman , ladies
These are my hands
My knees.

I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.

It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.


Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.

It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart-
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair on my clothes.

So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.

Do not think I under estimate your great concern.
Ash, ash-
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there-
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.


Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

ESOS HIELOS

Tus dedos lucen más grandes colocados fríos y húmedos en las gruesas paredes del old fashion, rodeados de las gotas de agua del ambiente que de otra forma no podríamos ver, y esos hielos quieren tocarte.