Woven with voyages, ovens, and water-water, Ivonne Gordon examines and flows in and out of love’s bodies of “tiempo fosforescente,” phosphorescent time and solitude.
Each poem is caught in currents and moments of astral montages, the possibility of miracles, a task cascading between nothingness and desire. All these things are palpable, they can be shaped on a kitchen table and paradoxically all is water-like, held up by constant change and impermanence. This is a text of wisdom, a sea-green collection of questions that slip between your fingers as if you were holding the starry ocean glimmers of love, the brush of timelessness, a leaping wave appearing and disappearing. An incredible accomplishment of art, philosophy and music in every line – Bravo!
Juan Felipe Herrera,
Poet Laureate of the United States, Emeritus
Author Ivonne Gordon
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IT HAS BEEN GOING DEAF
With the passing of time it has been going deaf
missing the silence of sounds, the house no longer listens
it has been going totally deaf with the years,
time doesn’t pass in vain, like fire, it devours mercilessly
the dry branches of the trees. Time rains down
like a partially formed animal.
All the incantations of shamanism
pass through the veins of the walls,
the house has been losing the strength of its youth,
its walls grow weak, it weeps for a second from loss of breath.
Its bones creak, like fish in fishing nets,
its address no longer exists
not even the street, or the pasaje Borja
or the stone pavement,
or the shoe store at the beginning of the hill
nor does the tailor shop
or the store on the corner
because it all disappears when silence sleeps
in the last passenger car into exile.