Poetry es memoria de la sombra de la memoria , dice la cita de Gelman que abre el nuevo libro de Paco Velasco, quien, además, en sus primeros versos, se afirma en la idea axial que se desprende del poema citado y de toda su escritura: Dice verdad quien dice sombra . Y pues la poesía es un andar casi a ciegas en busca de la luz, los versos de este libro no pretenden sino la verdad, buscan la narración precisa, pero a la vez elegiaca, de lo que la vida ha sido, de lo que de la vida queda en esa trocha que el poeta ha ido abriendo en las páginas en blanco de cada uno de sus días. La palabra del hombre / hacia la muerte / comienza en aquel cuaderno de rayas / y se tuerce en los versos / con que abres / la trocha between the branches of the white page . In that notebook, or other similar at least, talk again later, and on returns, that part of the book in which, in a deep, heartfelt and exquisite literary, becomes the people, children, the beginning, but above anything else, education of sensibility forged in contact with the landscape and home: Striped primer / waiting on the table / and the recent loaf / and the pot of milk / it cools. / (...) Listen to the lark as a thousand hearts beating / roadside / to start the day. That bread is the mother, and is warmer than the oven by touching of the hands that have amassed in the trough. Paco Velasco said in his book dedications Night , explaining some beautiful heptasílabos (Hogacita hot / cold that the dawn. / A work of man / smells and morning) that his mother made the best loaves the world. I do not think it is coincidence that this recovery of children, people, landscapes, its birds, its river, slate where d ibujaba ordered a simple and happy world, this bundle of poems that are Returns occupy the heart of the book and pull up as well, with an undisguised tone manriqueño: What took the stone from the grave / child hunter and air in the sink? There was forged in large measure, the man who then went and wrote, and finally collected his way in this age that is memory, shadow memory, just as well, when another menacing shadow looms on the horizon. shadow comes from the sea, / from the mountain, / the morning light / that afternoon off. / (...) On the sea, death. It will assemble your book. With the poetry itself that constitutes the first chapter, the shadow words: With the lights falls, / is longer than the body / the shadow that follows you . With evidence of aging that moves the poems of the second part, memory eyes: "(...) days advance / and time you delete and wrinkles / and the hand away. / And the face and memory . Reaching its peak in the beautiful Returns, which one believes that both have those "silent waters" that flowed from the previous book Paco Velasco. The decline of this particular Mount Caramel is precipitated with a desperate time Disclaimer ( rain comes slowly / and the grass growing in pots / rises to drink.) To The fire and ash, the last season all it consumes and to which we can only follow, as the last hope (as cited by Claudio Rodriguez), draining the "blank page". Paco Velasco's poetry, the very old earth juice, distilled purer than ever, focused, intense and, above all, authentic, this Memory shadow.
Francisco Alvarez Velasco
Cultural Institute "The Brocense"
AbeZeterio Collection, Cáceres, 2010
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