Poems

Entropia en Wiesbaden

Por el romano muro te asomaste
a ver la calle alemana
bajo la lluvia tenaz y declinante.
Lo que viste fue el bullicio, la fractal
escritura del desgaste europeo.
Mucho dinero, finas ropas,
edificios cuidadosos, gestos agrios,
mala comida -Goethe, en fin,
en su áulico, nemoroso
y patriarcal papel de santo doctus, poeta
enciclopédico.
Nada que contar de regreso,
nada sino la lluvia ahora pertinaz
y final. Un soplo del Espíritu Santo
entraba por la boca de los minutos-
pero tú, presente, más cuidadosa
que las Edades Medias
de la Selva Negra,
atestiguabas el sermón puritano
y el sedimento postindustrial,
las palabras eclipsantes
de cualquier académico, los consejos
de algún editor
despistado en Francfort. La entropía
se apoderaba de Wiesbaden
y tú renacías incesante
contra el fulgor del tiempo.

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Comments (2)

Aleksandr

Great suggestions. Wish more portey editors followed them. Increasingly, it seems, many editors of portey journals act as if they are doing poets a favor by existing. Their pomposity and rudeness can be overbearing at times. I NEVER send to a publication that charges to read a writer’s work. I realize it may be financially difficult to produce a journal, but I think charging to consider a writer’s work is to ignore the fact that most writers cannot live from their work and few are independently wealthy. I also have a few other ideas about what makes a good editor. One of these is not simply accepting work because the person submitting is a friend. In the 1960s I founded and co-edited a bilingual literary journal called EL CORNO EMPLUMADO / THE PLUMED HORN. It published punctually every three months for more than eight years. My goal was to put out what I considered the most exciting work I could. People were often astonished when I didn’t accept poems from a friend simply because he/she was a friend. The journal’s overall offering was sacred to me. I wanted it to be the best it could be. When I go back and reread those old issues, I no longer like all the work. But I still have the sense that we were producing the very best journal possible at the time.

Santara

I live in Wiesbaden and came across your poem. It’s very lovely.

Best wishes,

Santara

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