If you cut the trunk of the cherry,
not find the flowers in it:
spring alone has
seed flourish.
( Koan Tree Version)
about five months ago I first heard the name of Jose Angel Valente. "Listen" because I read (heard) without seeing it: limo, life, scale, vacuum, humidity ... Listen to some of his poems and did the curiosity to inquire about the poet of Orense. The first meeting took place thanks to that common taste "words-signs", or words "substantial" as plaintiffs in the Semitic languages. Then, through his posthumous legacy, a sort of culmination or poetic career that closes the work "open" has been his voice and his day: Fragments of a book future. Lately, I review the central themes of his poetry: the word and the art, the Kabbalah and Zen Buddhism, the ineffable nothing.
By prefacing a posthumous collection, Juan Goytisolo writes: the "exemplary Valente is its flagship search of the verb, in the settling of a word, art that aspires to the word total. [Valente] was proposed to achieve the radical past that foreshadows the silence." Remember "word" of memory material . Here, Valente-filled, an emptiness necessary occupation, a desire to silence a need to erase that characterizes modern poetry. Others choose to avoid it and prefer not elegantly. Valente not. Obstinately persists in obscure symbols filled with something that is almost say.
Word made
nothing.
Rama into the empty air.
Ala
no bird.
Flight without wings.
Orbit
which center naked
of every image.
Light
which is not yet
its innumerable face visible.
Material Report 1979
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