Balero
(poema en prosa)
En el correo de hoy, recibí de mi amigo ausente un balero, cojinete de bola, la chica esfera de acero como un planeta diminuto, brillante como Venus, o más bien, como la luna nuestra o la luna más pequeña de Júpiter. Así de brillante, pesa en la mano, denso y grave.
Con él una oda mecánica de Gary Snyder:
-----Por el lodo, tuercas trasroscadas, mugre negra
-----se abre, un brillar de acero sin mancilla
-----moldeado a perfecta medida
-----torbellino de entrada y de salida
-----claridad inexorable
-----al corazón
-----del trabajo.
La bolita de acero viene enredada en un trocito de tela con diseños en amarillo y negro como azulejos moriscos o micrografías electrónicas de células, moléculas o átomos. El pedacito de trapo tiene olor humano. ¿Formaría una vez parte de la camisa empapada de sudor que llevaría mi amigo cuando componía el motor de su automóvil? ¿Con ese trapito se secaría la frente húmeda de frustración y esfuerzo? Se ha convertido en reliquia esta pequeña verónica que revela su imagen al olfato.
Este rulemán — dice otra nota — dio aproximadamente 2.032x10 a la 9na potencia vueltas dentro de la caliente oscuridad del motor de mi Jeep. (cantidad igual de abrazos — tu amigo).
En mis sueños la bolita de acero es un planeta, cojinete en el engranaje que mueve las estrellas en la vasta maquinaria de los cielos. El trapito, reliquia de cariño bajo mi almohada, me abriga en una oscuridad caliente y los abrazos que tantos son se vuelven en uno sólo de 2.032x10 a la 9na potencia años de luz. Bendición y sueño.
© Rafael Jesús González 2007
Ball-Bearing
(prose poem)
© Rafael Jesús González 2007
Ball-Bearing
(prose poem)
In today’s mail, I received a ball-bearing from my absent friend, the little steel sphere like a minute planet, bright as Venus, or rather, like our moon or the smallest moon of Jupiter. As bright, it weighs in the hand, dense and grave.
With it a mechanical ode by Gary Snyder:
-----Through mud, fouled nuts, black grime
-----it opens, a gleam of spotless steel
-----machined-fit perfect
-----swirl of intake and output
-----relentless clarity
-----at the heart
-----of work.
The bearing comes wrapped in a piece of cloth with designs yellow and black like Moorish tiles or the electronic micrographs of cells, molecules or atoms. The piece of rag has a human smell. Was it once part of the shirt my friend wore soaked with sweat when he worked on the engine of his car? With that little rag did he wipe his forehead wet with frustration and effort? It has become a relic, this little Veronica that reveals its image to smell
This bearing, dizzy for the next 1,000 years, says another note, “took approximately 2.032x10 to the 9th power turns within the hot darkness of the motor of my Jeep. (equal number of hugs — your friend)”
In my dreams the little steel ball is a planet, a bearing in the gears that move the stars in the vast machinery of the skies. The little rag, relic of affection under my pillow, wraps me in a hot darkness and the hugs which are so many become a single one of 2.032x10 to the 9th power light years. A blessing and a dream.
With it a mechanical ode by Gary Snyder:
-----Through mud, fouled nuts, black grime
-----it opens, a gleam of spotless steel
-----machined-fit perfect
-----swirl of intake and output
-----relentless clarity
-----at the heart
-----of work.
The bearing comes wrapped in a piece of cloth with designs yellow and black like Moorish tiles or the electronic micrographs of cells, molecules or atoms. The piece of rag has a human smell. Was it once part of the shirt my friend wore soaked with sweat when he worked on the engine of his car? With that little rag did he wipe his forehead wet with frustration and effort? It has become a relic, this little Veronica that reveals its image to smell
This bearing, dizzy for the next 1,000 years, says another note, “took approximately 2.032x10 to the 9th power turns within the hot darkness of the motor of my Jeep. (equal number of hugs — your friend)”
In my dreams the little steel ball is a planet, a bearing in the gears that move the stars in the vast machinery of the skies. The little rag, relic of affection under my pillow, wraps me in a hot darkness and the hugs which are so many become a single one of 2.032x10 to the 9th power light years. A blessing and a dream.
© Rafael Jesús González 2007
----Correo de noviembre
Nadie sabe
lo que traiga
el correo de noviembre —
un cojinete redondo
como un pequeño planeta,
un pedazo de trapo
----oliendo a un amigo,
---------un arco iris,
un caqui como linterna
para calentar la mano —
poemas.
Tales son las bendiciones
que el correo de noviembre
pueda traer.
Nadie sabe
lo que traiga
el correo de noviembre —
un cojinete redondo
como un pequeño planeta,
un pedazo de trapo
----oliendo a un amigo,
---------un arco iris,
un caqui como linterna
para calentar la mano —
poemas.
Tales son las bendiciones
que el correo de noviembre
pueda traer.
------© Rafael Jesús González 2007
----November Mail
One never knows
what November mail
may bring —
a ball-bearing
like a little planet,
a scrap of cloth
---smelling of a friend,
--------a rainbow,
a persimmon like a lantern
to warm the hand —
poems.
Such be the blessings
November mail
----may bring.
-----© Rafael Jesús González 2007
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----November Mail
One never knows
what November mail
may bring —
a ball-bearing
like a little planet,
a scrap of cloth
---smelling of a friend,
--------a rainbow,
a persimmon like a lantern
to warm the hand —
poems.
Such be the blessings
November mail
----may bring.
-----© Rafael Jesús González 2007
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