Alma Venus by Pere Gimferrer

By Pere Gimferrer

Alma Venus es un extenso poema unitario que supone todo un acontecimiento en los angeles obra de Pere Gimferrer: junto a las referencias al cine, los angeles literatura o l. a. pintura habituales en el poeta, estos versos aluden a las circunstancias sociales y políticas actuales. A través del entrelazamiento de lo person con lo colectivo, del pasado con el presente y del arte con l. a. vida cotidiana, Gimferrer invoca los angeles poesía clásica latina, el legado surrealista y los críticos del mundo actual–Antonio Negri o Noam Chomsky–, para reivindicarel poder subversivo del amor en los angeles sociedad capitalista.Este poemario prosigue y amplia el territorio explorado en los angeles precedente entrega del autor, Rapsodia, elegido mejor libro de poesía del año 2011 por ABC y El Mundo.Tanto por el dominio de los angeles imagen poética como por lavariedad y contundencia de los angeles expresión de los temas, ésta es una poesía tan atemporal como de extrema actualidad, que encuentra eco en diferentes generaciones de lectores; un paso adelante en l. a. obra de «uno de los mayores poetas contemporáneos en cualquier lengua» (Túa Blesa, El Cultural).Esta obra ha recibido una ayuda a los angeles edición del Ministerio de Educación, Cultura y Deporte.

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Ballad of the Poverties from per 30 days Review

There’s the poverty of the cockroach state and the rusted bathroom bowl
The poverty of to thieve foodstuff for the 1st time
The poverty of to mouth a penis for a paycheck
The poverty of candy charity ladling
Soup for the negative who should always be there for that
There’s the poverty of idea poverty of the swollen abdominal shamed
Poverty of the degree mill the poll that is going nowhere
Princes of predation allow me inform you
There are poverties and there are poverties

There’s the poverty of inexpensive baggage bursted open at immigration
The poverty of the grew to become head, the prevented eyes
The poverty of bored intercourse of tormented sex
The poverty of the bounced cost the poverty of the dumpster dive
The poverty of the pawned horn the poverty of the smashed interpreting glasses
The poverty pushing the sheeted gurney the poverty cleansing up the puke
The poverty of the pavement artist the poverty passed-out on pavement
Princes of finance you who've now not lain there
There are poverties and there are poverties

There is the poverty of hand-to-mouth and door-to-door
And the poverty of reports patched-up to promote there
There’s the poverty of the kid thumbing the Interstate
And the poverty of the bride enlisting for war
There’s the poverty of prescriptions who can afford
And the poverty of ways could you ever finish it
There is the poverty of stones fisted in pocket
And the poverty of the village bulldozed to rubble
Princes of weaponry who've certainly not tasted war
There are poverties and there are poverties
There’s the poverty of wages stressed for the funeral you
Can’t get to the poverty of the wage cut
There’s the poverty of human hard work provided silently at the curb
The poverty of the no-contact legal visit
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And rejected the poverty of eviction, marriage ceremony mattress out on street
Prince enable me let you know who won't ever study via phrases
There are poverties and there are poverties

You who shuttle through deepest jet like a housefly
Buzzing with the opposite flies of plundered poverties
Princes and courtiers who won't ever research via words
Here’s a reflect you could inspect: take it: it’s yours.

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Example text

Next morning, roots against the glass. Who's talking now and in familiar language? Get real. What's real is the broken crown. The trunk shattered. Was that storm worse than others? Yes and no. The wind's torque twisted open the tree's tibia. Fool. You're talking about vegetables. Do you love the patio tomato? The Christmas cactus? Yes. And the magnolia on the roof, the felled crabapple, the topless spruce. 49 Lost Jewelry My grandmother's diamond chip ring set in filigree platinum, given to mark my sixteenth birthday, a family gift of transition.

But still, if incorrectly, each beast must be named. In the office room I inhabit a new lamp drapes light on daily rituals of departure, a party I skip to walk on new snow, granular, wool socks. 28 Here's narrow focus, patina, the coat of glass. This piece: against a wedding feast, cranes at sunrise. Every moment of night sleep, alert. Praise at the keys ivory, ebony. We have to function twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The responsibility of the body - catalogues coming through the mail, pages of photos, description, legends under color charts, alveoli, taste buds, hair follicles so busy until the end, the rooftops - you, heart not only head.

We both loved the moment, Lou Ferrigno in rags, entering the scene, you prone on the shag grass of our carpet, the kid, me the mom with a plate of warm brownies we expect to eat. Now, twenty years later, on a train, scanning your picture, I recreate your "marvelous transformation, not a particularly pleasant process for the subject," said Nabokov to his students. I'm one, and still your mom as I travel upstate trying to review your change as the train sings to the waterfowl landing and rising in the wetlands we observe as backdrop, my thoughts 35 mired in "the tickle and urge...

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