By Angel Gonzalez
Angel González (Oviedo, 1925) es sin duda uno de los mayores y más representativos poetas de los angeles « Generación poética del 50 ». El presente volumen recoge ciento un poemas seleccionados por el propio autor de su ya mítica obra « Palabra sobre palabra », además de 19 poemas inéditos.
Ángel González obtuvo el Premio Príncipe de Asturias de las Letras en 1985 y en 1996 el Premio Reina Sofía de Poesía Iberoamericana. En este mismo año de 1996 fue elegido miembro de l. a. actual Academia Española.
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Additional resources for 101 + 19 = 120 poemas
Where is the pelvic bone of a centaur located? How many policemen does it take in general? Nine? Doesn’t that strike you as more than enough? What if one of them is named Wick and the other Tallow? Could their marriage be called a candle? Does that complicate the uniform? If one were the front of the centaur would the hind end dream of goats? When I mentioned a bowl of rain earlier was it clear that I meant a bowl constructed solely out of raindrops and not a conventional bowl holding collected rainwater?
It was me at twelve, I think. Or maybe thirteen. The way the sodden clothing wrapped him flecked with bits of weed, the wet jersey pasted to the wicker of his ribs. He was raw boned and solemn, black cuts in his knuckles from bashing rough rock. indd 35 9/24/14 12:32 PM I cannot tell you how long, how many years have passed since I have been myself. indd 38 9/24/14 12:32 PM O i l an d As h What’s organic emits carbon when burned so animal dung or dried seaweed picked from rocks or a child left too long in the sun will all eventually rise toward the place we used to think God lived: among the clouds on a big chair.
Indd 31 9/24/14 12:32 PM R ather than R ead An other W ord Perhaps you could loosen your self within your skin. After all, you’ve worn it since childhood’s earliest onset. No wonder it’s grown tight. Soften the muscles around the eyes and there in your knotted jaw unclench what’s held by habit. There is no need to talk. Let your tongue grow fat. Listening can be a balm. Those lines in your head are still forming, and not of their own accord: we share the tools that deepen them: emotion, repetition, emotion, repetition, and the requisite mouthfuls of air.
101 + 19 = 120 poemas by Angel Gonzalez