November 2010

I did everything right

Small text (for short, appropriate for the blog) of a book irreducible to them . To read full. Hard to choose, get them out of the whole. No express fraction of what the book is its diversity of topics symbols, alternating voices, the kind of speech of each character. Using exquisite lyric with militant terminology. Edge. The humor. And the way that close, intimate ("affective," someone said to me well.)

"The academy Piatock" Alberto Szpunberg . I would put it between what I liked about it read this year, if the word "like" might express something of what made me read.
might add: a book that must endure, that stands out as a work that brings light to his lucid eyes. And free book, the kind that a poet writes when you know, when you have the resources to say what you want, as you want and could not be tied to anything since.

Chapeau for Don Alberto, that in addition to everything (and earlier) accompanies his writing with an attitude of always looking forward to learning.

Victoria and Sabina, my daughters

A Shila, the dog

A Tula, the turtle

A Manolín, the lizard

A fellow Brigade

SPOKEN PIATOCK

I Piatock, I saw many things in my life:

on the eve of most terrible day of all days, I attended the birth of a lamb with two heads:

with a nod, the other refused, but in all the four eyes shone

the same unique look of that in one form or another will die.

I felt that the four eyes looked at me and still wet

my eyes the same glance.

Aryeh LEIB BEN REB Naftule REVIEW THE BOOK OF DAYS

Now I realize that the burst of light and shadow burst and, though opposed, or precisely because of that, they have in a burst and common between the two only half a blink,
but yesterday, Friday afternoon, though I covered my eyes with his hand to light the candles and bow,
felt the sun set slowly in my heart as if it takes time to squint the longest of my life:

what is what the eye sees but the fleeting flicker of his eyes?

Aryeh LEIB BEN REB Naftule BOOK REVIEW LOOKS

Now I realize that both a speck of dust as the infinity of the promised land, everything goes down the slight flicker, and even land
that is dust and dust promise made, everything is a foreign body which intercepts the light and all alike
tearful pupil to clean it, but only after crying vision becomes clear.

When the water hole dries up
the most beautiful dream leads to blindness.

THE GLASS WORKER examine the objective conditions CUP MIRACLE

tell me what a miracle if I am charging across the desert on my shoulders and then dump the sand in the pot and pick up the hot liquid into the mold and give the shape of my thirst and polish its place as the emptiness of my

hunger and still bleeding in the palm of my hand the memory of the smaller splinter?

What miracle tell me if every time I touch the reality

even the air is harsh and always leave my fingerprints caresses and sometimes even if unintentionally hurt?

What miracle cup talk to me, if it is a ploy by the glass and crystal factory Glasserman Hnos whose shares rise or fall as I sink or surface, but always with the desert hills, with such transparency in the eyes, this redemption, this illusion that hurts and away, always away?

REFLECTIONS IN G MAJOR HORSE PIATOCK

Piatock and I do the same roads together, have the same fate, we are part of the same car, we splashed in the same bar, but "take me with you Run "Piatock heard saying to me one afternoon and were verses from the King to speak to me as clearly as I snort with you, and I smelled the pampa of beat and saw all the wheat until it joins the sky and shook their manes and lifted my legs and bucking and kicked and screamed my way of singing songs, until I heard the crack on my head with the whip, and bit the bridle, and never fucking, never been so strong metal never so hard.

THE SHOPKEEPER proclaimed its neutrality

What else?, I ask, I hold in my hands all the sweetness of the tea:

cold outside, outside nevará at any time, say out to be war,

but no wood in the attic for several months, hammering on the wall the clock, it always gives the exact time,

and in the photo, where my daughter wears white, has barely held its pendulum constant.

SPOKEN PIATOCK

I Piatock, I saw many things in my life:

there was a day when all covered their nose and not breathing and looked the other way

but plunged my fork into the cesspool and took what he gets', but I understood that, why not, also was a destination.

The Cabal ANDANTE DECODE THE STONE OF FOLLY

Sometimes, even in the midst of a look, stumble smack into the stone and I stray word two syllables of the road: the "r" is both tough and were it not for the warmth of the writing hand soft moss, oh, soft moss between the cracks of the stones, the bewilderment of heart would be enough to get lost in the madness, then I leaned over and close my eyes and even some pity always among the syllables harder, and more succinct the hidden hand that writes the word stone which the cast, especially if you do the infinite center of water, the waves spread and overflow once and for all the source of tears.

Alberto Szpunberg

Piatock Academy of