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Thursday, April 10th, 2014
Reading "Canto de guerra de las cosas" last week I was struck again by the epigraph and decided to read the 8th chapter of Romans. Here are two poems (one I started writing in Spanish and finished in English, and one I started writing in English and finished in Spanish) based on a few verses from that.
The Ways of Flesh and Spiritby J Osner
2 For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made
me free from the law of sin and death.
3 For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through
the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of
sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh:
4 That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us,
who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.
Romans 8
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod
and thy staff they comfort me.
Psalm 23
I will not walk forth
in the ways of the flesh
but in the ways of the Spirit. I will not
subject myself to the law of sin
and of death. For both
are of the flesh, which is not I --
though I'm living now, this moment,
in a lump of flesh. I'll walk
my pathway of the Spirit
of life in Christ Jesus, this lump
will come along for the ride.
I'm flesh which must follow
the law of sin and death --
would be no question
of walking
in any other ways
but the ways of the flesh,
for I am flesh. Will fear
no evil, for you will be with me.
And so we'll walk forth together
flesh and Spirit,
side by side
--indeed inside!--
along our separate paths
of Self and Other.
Romanos 8
por J Osner
Carne, te estoy adentro de vos
Tus sensaciones y reacciones
Son las mías. Cuando eructás
Soy yo el que me debo excusar.
Distraeme por tu hambre
Y por tu satisfacción.
Intimidame por tus anhelos;
No los voy a reconocer. Voy
A andarme conforme al Espíritu
De vida en Cristo Jesús y me retraeré
De vos y tu concepción asquerosa
Del mundo, tu valle
De la sombra del Mal
y del Muerto.
posted evening of April 10th, 2014: Respond
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Sunday, March 23rd, 2014
Vete y haz lo mimopor J Osner
26 Él le dijo: ¿Qué está escrito en la ley? ¿Cómo lees?
27 Aquél,
respondiendo, dijo: Amarás al Señor tu Dios con todo tu corazón, y con
toda tu alma, y con todas tus fuerzas, y con toda tu mente y a tu
prójimo como a ti mismo.
28 Y le dijo: Bien has respondido; haz esto, y vivirás.
San Lucas 10
véndale las heridas al prójimo. Oye
sus gritos, y responde. Haz
lo que puedes. Lo reconoce
como compañero, como
parecido ser humano
ten en común
siente la affinidad con el otro
esta chispa de conexión
se eleva
se genera
funciona para todo
cada prójimo considerando al prójimo
como amigo
posted afternoon of March 23rd, 2014: Respond
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Saturday, March 22nd, 2014
Do you have a favorite line or couple of lines of a poem, that serve to communicate in microcosm the sense (however loosely or impressionistically defined) of the containing poem? I'd love if you would post them in comments. A couple to get things started, here and in comments...
posted morning of March 22nd, 2014: 1 response
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TÃramelapor J Osner
13 Si alguno se acuesta con varón como los que se acuestan con mujer, los dos han cometido abominación; ciertamente han de morir.
LevÃtico 20
7 Y como insistieran en preguntarle, se enderezó y les dijo: El que de
vosotros esté sin pecado sea el primero en arrojar la piedra contra ella.
San Juan 8
La piedra ya arrojada
contra ella
y ¿quién sabe,
si estarÃa sin pecado
el
tirador; si se acostaba
con varón como los que
con mujer? En todo caso
comete abominación. El templo
hecho de cristal
ya se rompe en pedazos.
posted morning of March 22nd, 2014: Respond
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Monday, March 17th, 2014
2 poemas con referencias biblicas --
No me parece tan necesario
Estar siempre listo
Para lo que venga;
Mejor, pienso, que se deje
Sorprender
Y hasta confundir
Por lo nuevo.
Mejor, pienso, volver,
Y otra vez volver,
En este momento señalado
Para toda cosa
Debajo del sol.
insensible
por The Modesto Kid
insensible
como las cenizas
a la llama
arde
y miro la paja en el ojo ajeno
y no atiendo la viga en el mÃo propio
ayúdame a mÃ, por favor --
me desespero
tengo viga en el ojo
lo reconozco
¿es ceniza? ¿es llama? arde.
ilumina
espérame a mà momento, por favor --
espera
a confesarme
inmediato,
instantáneo
arde.
...y uno sino:
Vuelve ahora atrás,
quien me una vez
ávidamente buscó:
me persigue,
quien iba corriendo.
posted evening of March 17th, 2014: 1 response
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Sunday, March 9th, 2014
 3 Y, ¿por qué miras la paja que está en el ojo de tu hermano,
y no echas de ver la viga que está en tu propio ojo?
4 O, ¿cómo dirás a tu hermano: Déjame sacar la paja de tu ojo,
y he aquà la viga en tu propio ojo?
5 ¡Hipócrita! Saca primero la viga de tu propio ojo,
y entonces verás bien para sacar la paja del ojo de tu hermano.
3 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye,
but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?
4 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye;
and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?
5 Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye;
and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.
posted afternoon of March 9th, 2014: 1 response
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Saturday, March 8th, 2014
from Funeral oration, at the death of JoaquÃn Pasos
by Carlos Martinez Rivas
tr. Jeremy Osner
The drum beat echoing across
the little parade ground,
as if we were at the funeral of some Hero:
that's how I'd like to begin. And just
as must be done, in these Rituals of Death, I'd like
to forget his death; to look to his life --
to the lives of all the heroes now extinguished,
heroes who just like him lit up the night down here --
for many is the young poet who has died in our time.
Across the centuries they call out and we hear
their voices blazing, their distant canticle --
from the depths of the night they call out and reply.
There's not so much that we can know of them: that they were young,
that their feet strode upon this earth. That they knew how to play some instrument.
That they felt the ocean breeze across their forehead,
and looked up to the hills. They loved some girl,
and scribbled all this down til late at night, and crossed lines out,
and one day died. And now their voices blaze in the night.
posted morning of March 8th, 2014: Respond
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Sunday, March second, 2014
posted evening of March second, 2014: Respond
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Saturday, March first, 2014
posted morning of March first, 2014: Respond
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Thursday, February 27th, 2014
Here is a poem I have been working on this week. The genesis is as follows: I was thinking about my poem Analogies for Time, and also about the Persistence of Memory. I thought, well, the Persistence of Memory is a suspension of time, time does not progress in a painting, the time on the melting watch will always be 6:55 and the watch will never melt away -- from all this came the line "No hay rÃo para correr a través de este paisaje soñado" -- it's a landscape without a river. Well: a promising line. I spent a while tossing it around and it is seeming not to be so much a poem about that painting, but about a landscape that is outside of time. (Possibly this landscape could be the setting for the eternal city in "El inmortal".) Here is what I've got so far:
No river flows through this immortal landscape, dry and still.
No hunter seeks the spoor of his hallucinated prey.
The jagged cliffs look down on desert -- cliffs of granite, dreary desert --
static sands untouched by wind or moisture, waiting still
for time eternal, the imagined camera pans and zooms
but finds no hint of motion, no decay,
no sign of change for good or ill.
posted evening of February 27th, 2014: Respond
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