Tuesday 3 December 2013















Objects and Apparitions

To Joseph Cornell
(Translated from the Spanish of Octavio Paz)

Hexahedrons of wood and glass,
scarcely bigger than a shoe box.
Night with all its lights fits inside them.

Monuments to every moment,
made with the scraps of every moment:
cages of infinity.

Marbles, buttons, thimbles, dice,
pins, stamps and glass beads:
tales of time.

Memory weaves and unweaves the echoes:
in the four corners of the box
shadowless ladies play hide-and-seek.

Fire buried in the mirror,
water asleep in the agate:
solos by Jenny Lind and Jenny Colon.

‘One should commit a painting,’ said Degas,
‘the way one commits a crime.’ But you built
boxes where things quicken from their names.

Slot machine of visions,
meeting glass for memories,
hotel for crickets and constellations.

Minimal, incoherent fragments:
contrary to History, creator of ruins,
from your ruins you made creations.

Theatre of spirits:
objects make the laws
of identity leap through hoops.

‘Grand Hotel Couronne’: the three of clubs
in a carafe, and wide-eyed
Thumbelina in the gardens of a reflection.

A comb is a harp
strummed by the gaze of a girl
born mute.

The reflector of the mind’s eye
scatters the spectacle:
solitary god above an extinct world.

The apparitions are manifest.
Their bodies weigh less than light.
They last as long as this sentence.

Joseph Cornell: inside your boxes
my words became visible for an instant.




















Objetos y apariciones

A Joseph Cornell

Hexaedros de madera y de vidrio
apenas más grandes que una caja de zapatos.
En ellos caben la noche y sus lámparas.

Monumentos a cada momento
hechos con los desechos de cada momento:
jaulas de infinito.

Canicas, botones, dedales, dados,
alfileres, timbres, cuentas de vidrio:
cuentos del tiempo.

Memoria teje y destejo los ecos:
en las cuatro esquinas de la caja
juegan al aleleví damas sin sombra.

El fuego enterrado en el espejo,
el agua dormida en el ágata:
solos de Jenny Lind y Jenny Colon.

"Hay que hacer un cuadro", dijo Degas,
"como se comete un crimen". Pero tú construiste
cajas donde las cosas se aligeran de sus nombres.

Slot machine de visiones,
vaso de encuentro de las reminiscencias,
hotel de grillos y de constelaciones.

Fragmentos mínimos, incoherentes:
al revés de la Historia, creadora de ruinas,
tú hiciste con tus ruinas creaciones.

Teatro de los espíritus:
los objetos juegan al aro
con las leyes de la identidad.

Grand Hotel Couronne: en una redoma
el tres de tréboles y, toda ojos,
Almendrita en los jardines de un reflejo.

Un peine es un harpa
pulsada por la mirada de una niña
muda de nacimiento.

El reflector del ojo mental
disipa et espectáculo:
dios solitario sobre un mundo extinto.

Las apariciones son patentes.
Sus cuerpos pesan menos que la luz.
Duran lo que dura esta frase.

Joseph Cornell: en el interior de tus cajas
mis palabras se volvieron visibles un instante.















Art by Joseph Cornell
Poem by Octavio Paz
English translation by Benjamin Palmer

Wednesday 30 October 2013

















The Devil Clears Up a Misconception


People have got me all wrong.
They think I’m against goodness,
loathe it, am sickened 
by its very sight.

None of that is true.

My misfortune
is to love goodness
too much.

I need
to feel it
pulsate.                                                                              

So I take it in my hands –
whenever chance comes my way –
to press it, prod it, play with it,
and give it
a little
squeeze.

(It is in my nature, you know,
to be something of a tease.)

But it’s when the fighting flutter comes,
and the beating thing takes flight,
that wonder 
             takes over
and this devil 
                          delights