Looking back. Looking Forward Part 2

The liberation of language

Dear Eduardo, 9 November 2011

I am taking Tango lessons every Wednesday! Yes, you are allowed to laugh.  But we can meet there and have dinner after. It is the corner of Murillo and Arocena. I will be looking for you, or come upstairs in the restaurant and you can dance some tango!

See you tonight. Mollie

Mollie,

Wonderful,

should I bring the "Blue Suede Shoes" lent by Carl Perkins, or the red shoes lent by David Bowie (Let`s dance)?

Eduardo,

Yes, definitely bring it on! I will be channelling Maria Schneider and you can be Marlon.

(And so it began and I was inspired by the meeting)

Tango Criollo

Hands lightly on the shoulder, eyes locked and

feet moving smoothly into staccato steps and slides,

seemingly disconnected from the hips

two steps back, two steps forward, pause and

then forward once more. Lead and follow.

The anticipation of the meeting was a prelude -

a brief exchange - short, detailed messages

teased and promised. The promise of a dance.

The promise of shared words, images, hemispheres.

The promise of a full moon reflected on the watery streets

The sensuous overtones of tango and space closing.

The logistics of the number on the bus, the crossroads

Murillo and Commedia Divina - evocative illogical names

The lilting sounds of bandoneón and rhythms of tango,

exploring the movements, playful and dangerous.

Rio de la Plata rough and relentless running along the Rambla

our feet move smoothly through the staccato steps and slides

seemingly disconnected from our wills into the embrace.

The promise of the meeting was not the only promise to be kept

the music played on and the dance unfolded

There is a grace in the fumble to shed inhibitions and strangeness

the dance dips and lowers onto the bed and the tango extends

to tangled limbs and bedclothes and exploring rhythms

we knew it would be this dance in this place on this plane

we knew it would be this night in this town on this street

Tango is at once a little gentle and a little rough

steering backward and forward, a turn to the side and pause.

A trip to the interior and a promise of return to tango.

The music fades. The dancers disengage. Hands rest lightly.

A door opened and you stepped through and decided to dance.

                                                                                                MQP 2011

Dear Eduardo, 11 November 2011

When I read your article yesterday I wondered if poetry will ever be considered as dead and mundane as the blog. I never could understand why people blog. It seems egoistic to record for all the dregs of one's daily actions. ( Note: it is thirteen years later, and here I am recording the dregs for all to read...or not)

Eduardo,

Of course, I hope we will be in touch forever. You have enriched my life here in Montevideo immeasurably and I cannot repay that debt. You introduced me to the cultural side of this wonderful country and city. I hope that your friends will become my friends, too, and they will keep me up to date on all the events. I am not sure what I expected in "my visiting poet" but you certainly went way beyond what anyone could hope for. Your trust and openness is a tremendous compliment to me.

I know how busy your life is with new pressures at the university and less support; your personal relationships; your family, sons and daughter;  the gallery, the journal, and all the business that goes into these endeavors is a massive time commitment. Then, you have your editorials and your own other writing. You are like a little bee going from flower to flower gathering ideas, but leaving a part of yourself as well. So, if you save a moment for me, to catch me up on your news, share an idea or ask me a favor that can only be accomplished in this hemisphere, I am fulfilled. Please use me as your sounding board, if you need another pair of eyes or a different perspective. 

Plus, I understand, in a very metaphysical way ;),  how exhausting it must be for a genius to exist in our banal world. We only trail behind and hope to glean some fragments of your vivid inspiration. I am the tail trying to catch the star that is shooting from the southern sky back to the northern one and I glow in your reflected light. The full moon hanging through the trees last night like some glorious ornament will remind me each month of our little walk and our long talks. 

Please know, also, that whenever you are on this continent that my guest room is yours. It has been a whirlwind being in your orbit and a memorable part of my new world that has reassured me (not that I ever really had a doubt) that this has been a truly "Volver bien" in my life.  

 Ever yours,

M

Eduardo, 24 November. 2011

It is so beautiful in my garden at the moment that I feel no inspiration to do anything but sit and gaze. I know I must evict the nest of daddy-long-legs from behind the toilet in the guest bathroom and go to the shops for eggs and yoghurt, but I am in slow motion. Despite having to go into school tomorrow for my seniors' college paperwork, I am in holiday mode bigtime!  Don't let the lives of others get you down, dear one. The trick is to move to the southern hemisphere and let them mess up their vidas without you!!  "So if this is all there is, let's dance..."   Mollie

Eduardo,

I bought the newspaper and translated Surf y Mate, finding it clever and being amazed as the Spanish syntax! No wonder my students favor run-on sentences! But, I have a question: my neighbor, also Eduardo, told me El Observador is right-wing. Aren't poets supposed to be leftist anarchists who need to spend years down a well to be smartened up by the fascist governments? So how does a poet write for El Observador? There is no judgement behind my query. I have not been above bending my political principals to work in an ultra-conservative Republican school.  Just curious...

Pasa bien. M

Dear M,

Remember, Eliot, Pound, Stevens, were politically conservative; the newspaper is liberal, but some people perceive it as rigtht wing, which is wrong. Anyway, a great topic for conversation

Thank you. Perfect, good plan. Besos, Edu

Querido Eduardo,

And when might said conversation take place? It seems when we begin to converse something else comes up and gets in the way of completing the verbal exchange of ideas. So, I will expect to hear from you sometime on the 24th? Happy writing and travels. XXX

Eduardo,

When you write about "liberating the language from its utilitarian prison and from instant gratification" it rang true. Some of my students who have only a marginal understanding of English, write beautiful poetry using simple language, "restore(ing) its native privacy." I think, too, of Beckett who wrote Waiting for Godot in French to avoid the staleness of his native language. He wanted to make the play simpler in diction to allow the complication of the absurd to take the center stage. 

I wear my enthusiasm on my sleeve when I am around you, Eduardo. I need to learn discretion and, yes, I ask too many questions. I want to know you and know more about your poetry. I want to share you with the listeners and readers. You are the prize I offer to my new world - a shiny, bright thing. A treasure of sorts from the literary coffers of the world.

 M

Eduardo,

The "Basement" was interesting yesterday and I felt I had a preview since you had talked about expensive and elaborate Russian coffins to me the day before. And, in the years in Italy I collected an impressive collection of very expensive and complicated shoes. I will definitely include instructions in my living will as to which pair will be on my feet when I am in the horizontal position. The idea of putting stones in my pockets and walking into the Rio del Plata seems less inviting when I realize it would eliminate the possibility of having beautiful elaborate leather shoes on my feet as I lie in state. The mourners will remember that, as Oscar Wilde remarked, "Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" and remember me as one who had never lived within her means, and who could not abide suffering.

I must say I am impressed with your ability to write prolifically - every day - on a variety of subjects. Your column is my new little daily Spanish lesson. It is becoming a bit of an addiction like the daily soap opera my family's housekeeper would watch while she ironed the family linens on the mangle! What a fascinating machine that was - hot, a little dangerous, efficient at smoothing out the wrinkles of the heavy sheets, and the delicious smell of the clean steam that rose like a magic puff from the formidable rollers as Elizabeth fed the damp linens through with her eyes darting between her guiding fingers and the images on the that other magic machine, the black and white television in the laundry room. As the World Turns was her program. A good title for a poem, no? M

Eduardo, 24 December 2011

Still exploring the realm of Punta del Diablo. Took a bus to Chuy yesterday not realizing I was entering Brazil! The pampas and St. Theresa National Park was beautiful and I had a delicious entrecote parilla in "Brazil" before crossing back to UY. I had no idea how far north I was in Punta del Diablo. The hotel is full now and lively. Marco and his sister are taking good care of me with breakfast and advice. I wish you were here to lie beside me on the warm sand. The wind is constant but refreshing and I must be careful not to take too much sun without realizing it. I may leave on the 29 instead of the 30, but still enjoying myself. Very, very relaxing.

The Pasolini book is fascinating. His take on New York makes me want to go there again myself to see it through his eyes. It is slow going as I translate every third or fourth word. I can read for the meaning, and usually I have the idea, but it is important to look things up to make the vocabulary concrete in my mind.  I hope you are writing and not stressing about university,

You are in my thoughts. M

Dear Eduardo, 29 December 2011

 Walking home from late dinner at "Cero Stress", a charming restaurant here in Punta del Diablo, I followed the southern cross to the moon, a lopsided sliver which reminded me of your mischievous smile. The sky here is so clear and full of stars and planets that it is breathtaking. I am heading back to Montevideo later this afternoon. I miss my garden and am finding it hard to write here as the place begins to fill with people as January approaches. I hope you are fine and things are settling down for you. How will you spend New Year's Eve? I think the gals in the administration offices will include me in their daft plans, if I am willing. Not sure. So relaxed after many nights of eight hours sleep I may not want to erase this with an all night celebration. Oops, I am beginning to sound like a boring person! Besos, Mollie

Dear Mollie

As you can imagine, we are sharing the same full moon, because this evening I walked under her spell because you were there, in the high “sea of tranquility”, looking at me. Thank you for being there at the right moment.

Today I read an article about the economic situation in Spain, and it is kind of scary because the crisis could become even bigger with the past of time. For years they had a very good life, but now is getting bad, especially because other countries are in similar situation. Tell me as soon as you arrive there.

Eduardo

Dearest, 1 January 2012

For the past forty eight minutes I have been living in a war zone with fireworks that sound more like the mortars that were exploded by the Red Brigrade when I lived in Rome or that fell on Beirut where my friends slept with mattresses against the windows for the breaking glass. It is the closure of the annus horribilis for the world and perhaps a celebration for a better year to come. Looking at the fireworks of Sydney, London and Paris on the internet news there is a sense of hope, but a toned-down hopefulness not to negate the disasters of the past year.

The song you sent is beautiful. The video seems like it represents a woman mourning a death of a husband or a young man mourning a lost love. The translation: "This absurd decision to leave everything; we consider it and start again. To love without thinking of anything abandoned, for if we were lost we meet again". I think all of these upheavals, pains and changes will inspire some great poetry, Eduardo. Use it. Passion and pain are the fuel for great words, don't you think?  My publisher tells me my poems are too personal, too intimate. Can that ever be the case? Can it ever be too personal or intimate? I write what is personal for me, but hope that the reader will find some personal connection to his or her own experience. If I begin to write anything that is not too personal or intimate, I hope I will recognize that it is worthy only of the fire and not a reflection of a real person or real experience. I raise the final glass of our whiskey and the bottle is now empty. A toast to you, to a new year, to new poetry and a modicum of success in a town where some claim there is no hope of success. M

Dear Mollie,   01/01/2012.

Don’t you think it is amazing the love the Uruguayan has for fireworks? It is simply amazing. Even in bad years they had money for fireworks. The world started the year with a lot of fear. Did you see what happened in Spain? The new government cut the national budget in 50 per cent. Everybody is nervous. The fear is the same in all the other countries. This could be a year of surprises. I believe you are in the right place at this moment.

The video I sent you, by Vicentico, belong to the movie, “Viudas”, I did not see it, but is about two women; I like that song very much, especially a very poetic line: “Who can think about the summer when the snow is falling hard?” I liked that song even before all the snow started to fall over me.

By the way, all the great poetry is always personal; even Wallace Stevens’ poetry is personal. Please, write poetry. You should write a book with poems about your time in Uruguay.

Kisses, Eduardo

Dear M

It was wonderful also to hear your voice. I almost told you, “I will there in 45 minutes, I am going to catch the bus”. We sounded very close because we are very close.

I love this poem you just wrote, I believe you have a powerful style with this homely minimalism, which is very poetic:

I came home from the beach and it feels good to be home. 

The gardenia tree is heavy with flowers

and now the jasmine is twining around the bars 

at my front window adding its strong scent to the night air. 

The small ants share my kitchen and I don't mind. 

Their team work, carrying a large crumb awkwardly 

across the marble counter, is admirable and inspires me 

to stop relaxing and to begin to "carry my burden" 

of recording my thoughts. 

I bought a new diary for 2012 and tomorrow 

I will set down my thoughts about the new year. 

Turn a new page.  MQP

I did not know that Nabokov was influenced by Rimbaud, good information. I want to read his memoirs, “Speak, memory”. Please do not be serious at your age. The point is: be you, crazy and creative as always. I will support you forever. As my mother used to tell me all the time: “You are the ambassador of eternal youth”. And we have plenty of time to celebrate Rimbaud's "lime-trees ... green along the Parade." Please, continue teaching the poetry of Seamus Heaney and Robert Frost, but I will add Wallace Stevens and William Carlos Williams. And please, contact Amir after your return from Spain. The Year of Magical Thinking arrived for us, so happy New Year.

I send you more kisses than hugs. 

Eduardo

Dear Eduardo

It sounds like you are in a good place, despite the planet being a place unknown. Thank you for the song and I am sending you one back that is from my heart. No matter what comes down from the sky of this dark planet, I am here for you. This is your safe haven, your refuge, either through words or if you land here in this place again. Stay with me and know that you are in my heart. The beauty of your words, thoughts, plaintive cries found in your poetry is what will make sense of the alien world - maybe the only sense. Take care of your sweet self. M

Dear Mollie,

I love your poem and I love your poetry. I love your mind .as much as I love your moves. I wish you were closer, so we can go to the opera in Houston so hear Anna Bolena by Donizetti. As soon as I met you I realized that with you I can be happy. Even more, when I am with you I am happy. You must know that from the beginning. I agree with you completely: "I wish I were there or you were here so we could talk, drink, hold each other and heal". And yes, I am now in the next room. I will be always in the next room, but not during the nights. The days when you will see me sitting, holding a glass of whiskey and you will come to sit down and talk to me, with our knees touching across the sofa, will return very soon. I miss that very much, corazon. I will be working on two new books, one of poetry and the other essays. The end of something coincided with the beginning of something exciting: you. I think about you all the time. And for all the rest, we will see.

By the way, one of my favorite nights of last year was the one when we went to that bar, where I was going to read, but ended up in a brawl. And, of course, the night with Vera. In other words, we can have a lot of fun together.

Big kiss

Dear Eduardo, 7 January 2012

I just walked back from Garcia and yes, of course, I ate meat!! I had my usual rack de cordero. The others were happy to get together and we had a good time in my cottage having drinks and hors d'oeuvres. A good bottle of red wine which we drank. There were six of us all together and it was fun.

Walking home the roads were lit with an amazing huge full moon. I am sure it is hanging over you in Texas where the sky is wide and open. I was very good tonight - not too much to drink at all. But now I am home and feeling a bit lonely for company. It will be good to have the intensity of the full household in Granada. Things are tight in Spain, but it has not gone as bad as Greece or as badly as Italy is going financially. 

I am going to bed now with the full moon shining in my window casting long shadows across the bed. Look up at the moon where you are and think of me. M

Dear Mollie

Another year arrives, another year left

Only the great memories will stay. Eduardo

Full Moon Rising over Carrasco, Montevideo