"White Blindness" en el Centro Journal

La revista del Centro para Estudios Puertorriqueños del Hunter College, en Nueva York lanza su edición de la Primavera 2008 con el tema de "Functions and valorization of language in Puerto Rico", compilada por Alicia Pousada. En la misma se incluyen poemas de Urayoán Noel y Richard Marx Weinraubb; un cuento de José Delgado-Costa, y ensayos de Carmen Haydée Rivera, Alma Simounet, Catherine M. Mazak, Elena González Rivera, Kevin Carroll, Aida Vergne, María Inés Castro, Francisco Cabanillas y la propia Pousada, entre otros.

Entre el elenco, se ha colado un poema de mi autoría titulado white blindness.

A la izquierda, un detalle de la espectacular portada.

Abajo, el texto del poema que pertenece a un libro de poemas en inglés y spanglish que lleva por título Archipielago, que debe ver la luz pronto.





white blindness

my grandmother told me:
“the world is made of language”

although she never read Lacan,
or anything else for that matter

she spoke the language of life
in broken Spanish

she looked after mis palabras:
she gave me poems.

she emphasized:
“you must master the words,

como los brujos;
and the world is yours”

she never saw Scarface, either

but grandma knew a thing or two
about lost motherlands

and borrowed geographies:
she knew the shades of the ocean

as they transverse from latitudes to longitudes,
any which way of the compass rose.

she knew Florence, flor, flower,
but her eyes dilated strangely

as she pronounced them:
she didn’t know how to write them

when the hands in her clock started spinning backwards,
she couldn’t find the sign,

the badge,

the token

to signify the nightmares that slowly erased every syllable in her words-well.

and the last days of her life
were swallowed by a terrible silence.

her eyes, though, flooded me with deaf sounds:

nene, ven acá please hurry get me a glass of water Io ho molto sete que hora es ay virgen santísima uomo della merce la patria figlio mio la cosa migliore figlio qualche giorno sarete possiate con loro un parole sono tutte che hora es ay virgen abbiate lasciato, che facciate santísima mio from the glass of water Io tempest, the tempest, ho molto sete que muchacho, ven aca please esta en el corazón hurry get me a run away mio figlio mio figlio la paz la luz qualche giorno sarete un uomo della merce la patria esta en el corazón run away from the tempest, the tempest, le parole sono tutte che abbiate lasciato, muchacho, no dejes que nothing te detenga par o le pa la brrrrrrrrrrrrrr (aaaaaaaaaaaa)…


abuela lost, gradually, all notion of language
the words left her


the day she died,
she looked as if she were caught up
in a white blindness.




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