uscando B old notes written some lines about my reading of José Kozer, a Cuban poet whose initials are all an allegory bastard in the best literature, referring destruction but rebuilt, which stops in the shadows to travel to other clearness, which delights in death to connote rebirth. I would not write of a poet not to feel close even when you know you pretend to shed light, more light on other pages and it is difficult wounds in that concert sober counterpoint between and excess is Kozer's poetry. Is this what I'm going, to encounter a hard, intense singularity, a body that has set in motion, a flowery mound yesterday and again today calcined break, a city of nights off passenger seat, a nation of grief. A city to lift, lost island that never sleeps, which proposes that language as an epiphany elastic and solution, but again relapsed into its mirror-random in their final agreement. These senses ever recover Word / city / nation carry the condition of ductility verifiable Kozer, which once said to have been dazzled by Symbolists and, voila!, Lorca, I imagine that of Poet in New York . What do we know this gentleman K? Nobody said or will say in schools or homes that existed and exists. Call them lucky. For those schools that were, a poet was a poet-teacher ratio recommended for mistrust. I think Nicolás Guillén, which I think is still replace those misgivings. Whenever school is mentioned in a poet is to be suspicious. The poet and the recommendation, both submerged, both contaminated and predictable notions of the heroic and messianic awakening, of trials and certain alloys Numantian spurious. Already in those schools, not more schools like my grandmother said, recommending more unless you think poets do not amount to many and the worst is I do not know how bad it is. Let's just say that this gentleman K stands as a poet otherwise recommended, the school poet Jose Marti bust poppy, and as close to the transience of life unhappy or terrible accident that it is to be young poet. I met Kozer February 1, 2002 in La Cabaña, Havana, they say is the worst place to meet writers. Cuba does not suit me that book, the selection of his poetry entitled reflected not seek , signed by its author, but I remember some of your phrases that I wrote and still others, and that serene face transfigured Kozer Ulysses returning to land where barely expected to return someone from looking. And all I found is this: There is nothing beyond language. The language is inevitable. Anulavidas is the monster. There will be disrespectful. Always. re-founded. re-create it. re-assembly. Always. Still open pages at random from that book, I read some poems and turned to look at that note and letter writing to urge fragile: The name is a lie. And often a sign, a bibliography, a doodle, a scheme of which can not become unintelligible to unravel. My God, how much we live Thebes. How fragmented family. Much of animosities and disagreements are in a national poetry larguedad. not seek was reflected when he arrived, but how to know if it was the right time. Before some poems in magazines came, something Vigia an interview and again postponed glare. That delayed receipt of his poetry remembers that the accused deterritorialization of Cuban literature of recent decades, not a nomadic condition highly unlikely, irrelevant to our case. Kozer comes from a Jewish family, knows of these ancient migrations and has managed to live all his work references cosmopolitan, too ancient, although the island footprint will not lack. The displacement of the island as a space center or point of arrival, transformed now old jetty from where you set a destination: starting with an intensity unknown half a century ago, a dispersion that is taxed away from the benefit of true cosmopolitanism leaves a stale bitter residue of resentment, discrediting, indifference, revenge and distances multiplied in time. There were times when there seemed no other poetry between us that the colloquial standard politically correct, affirmative nauseatingly. Still licking some old wounds, but worth remembering that cost them double the exceptions become recognized or ever would in the unjust extent were other voices and forgotten in the national chorus. These gestures of legitimation, unfortunately, still favoring a comfortable speaking, quietist, pallor uncritical reader of the worst tradition from plagiarism or bad copy, for whom language is a club made up of words and the poem is it, one word after another, and look with disdain that true revolution can have a poetic assimilation of current aesthetic trends. Kozer I found quite a poet of interior, escaped from the uplifting acuosamente, numbed by the need to make sense of reality itself from itself and from what is written. Antonio José Ponte reports the finding of a confession in the newspapers published Kozer, the poet says he has not yet written his great poem, which he called a resounding or final . Elsewhere, Kozer mentioned the possibility of a duet copulatory Martí / Casal, and opposites and you together forever, and projected as "world meeting" as "that entity centaur watered or watered it once on the banks of a river mythical island. Just as there is no great poem, the poem or final round of Marti and Casal beyond their own lives and their poetry, the poems of late Kozer intention to cancel the telluric powers spurious, verbose magnificence, grandeur of the occasion , swollen vastness of gravity, fustian atrocious all so foreign to his speech, his philosophical thought, and that intention as re-united with a non-negligible contemporary Cuban poetry.
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