vi leer a john ashbery, uno de los masters and commanders de la poesía de aquí y por lo tanto, por contagio imperial, de allí y de todas partes. No sé qué esperaba exactamente - sé que apareció un señor, un SR., un tipo vestido de traje, bastante viejo. Muy viejo, de hecho. Se sentó en una silla detrás de una mesa delante de 500 personas en el auditorio de la facultad de derecho de NYU. Y leyó. Sin más. Leyó su nuevo libro, Planisphere. El poeta vivo más importante de America, dicen. Un tipo con un traje sentado en una silla, eso es todo - es casi irreverente ser así, ser tan sr. de su casa, de su auditorio, de sus poemas - qué bien escribe Ashbery. El SR.ASHBERY maneja los trozos de la vida troceada americana, los pedazos de las cosas que pasan sin casi sintaxis o ensamblaje - o ny ¿O acaso no es la mejor descripción de la vida en eeuu algo llamado “default mode”? Algo así - repetitivamente vacío y aterradoramente verdad - verdad de repetición:
They were living in America at another time
They were living in America for the FBI
They were living in America shit wins
They were living in America on the border with Canada
They were living in America further gone into teats
They were living in America that was the only good one
They were living in America that was the only good one
They were living in America who answers the phone and
They were living in America deliriously
They were living in America sadly
They were living in America fictitiously
They were living in America wedged
They were living in America Stella by Starlight
They were living in America the mighty sun
They were living in America pandemically
They were living in America across from the Ritz Hotel
They were living in America getting their chops
They were living in America for just one summer
They were living in America beside the lake
They were living in America for the defeatist troops
They were living in America for the pleasure of it all
They were living in America as well as can be expected
They were living in America as one grows passionately
out of love affair they were living there every day
Does this doughnut remind you of a life preserve?
They were living in America to remind you of me
They were living in America and a store blew up suddenly
They were living in America extended terms of credit
They were living in America but it’s all over
They were living in America as tissue paper into a comb
They were living in America at fives and sixes
They were living in America the same old same old
j. ashbery, Planisphere
3 comentarios:
Vaya, cuanto spam...
Un enlace a una entrevista con Ashbery http://www.elcultural.es/version_papel/LETRAS/28174/John_Ashbery
Besos
Gracias por el enlace; no vi la entrevista y me ha gustado leerla. Ah, y he borrado el spam, no sé por qué llegó tanto durante aquella época... Besos
Más recomendaciones de lectura de Ashbery en el TLS (http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/the_tls/article7169599.ece):
"One of the events of the past year was the appearance in English of Poison, Shadow, and Farewell, the final volume of Javier Marías’s trilogy Your Face Tomorrow, again translated from Spanish by the amazing Margaret Jull Costa (Vintage). In a previous TLS Books of the Year, Margaret Drabble wrote, “We wait uneasily for volume three”. Both attentiveness and foreboding were, it turns out, superbly justified.
Susan Bernofsky continues her traversal of Robert Walser with translations from his hitherto undecipherable Microscripts (New Directions), written with a pencil in tiny characters on bits of scrap paper. As Walter Benjamin noted in a 1929 essay included in this volume, “Walser begins where the fairy tales stop. ‘And if they have not died, they live there still.’ Walser shows how they live”.
Ever since getting happily tripped up by The Waste Land, I tend to skip the end notes of a book of poetry. But those for Timothy Donnelly’s The Cloud Corporation (Wave) aren’t easy to ignore. They refer, among other sources, to Maturin’s Melmoth the Wanderer, H. L. Mencken, Schopenhauer, Bruce Springsteen, Gibbon, Flaubert’s Diary of a Madman, and, in one case, to Osama bin Laden and the theme song to The Beverly Hillbillies. None of this would matter, of course, if the broad range of references weren’t matched by the vaulting agility of the author’s mind. This is an extraordinary collection – the poetry of the future, here, today."
Otro beso.
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